


For a Life

by musicalgirl4474



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst, Blindness, F/M, Good Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, SO SORRY, Some Fluff, non-canonical blindness, they're all teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474
Summary: Loki is blinded while rescuing his brother, Sif, and the warriors three. His life will never be the same.ORThor is stupid, Loki pays the price, and Loki learns to be his own person, outside of others' perceptions.





	1. Don't Count me Out

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the characters as the equivalent of teenagers. While Loki would be about 12-13ish, Thor would be about 16-17. Sif is maybe 15ish? Asgardian equivalency is hard.
> 
> Chapter title from song 'Run for your Life' by K.Flay.

3rd person Loki POV

A black haired boy, slight for his age, was curled up in a comfortable chair, a book on his lap. He looked up in annoyance as loud voices neared his quiet sanctuary. Normally, he could hide away in the library and not worry in the slightest that his brother and his friends would come looking for him. With a sigh, he put the book down on the table to his right, standing to walk closer to the big doors. Waiting until they began to open, he yanked them apart. His older brother, unbalanced by the action, tumbled to the floor with a surprised yell.

“Quiet Thor,” Loki hissed. “You’re in a library.”

“Well, he wouldn’t have made a sound if you hadn’t opened the doors like that,” Sif said in annoyance. Ah, Sif. So quick to accuse. Not that Loki blamed her too much. Cutting off her hair was one of his pranks that he was least proud of. Though really, how had she expected to be taken seriously as a warrior with those tresses she had been so proud of?

“What do you want?” Loki asked.

“We’re going on a hunt brother,” Thor said. “We wish for you to join us.”

“Yeah, come on Loki. You spend all day holed up in this musty old library. Why don’t you come get some fresh air?” asked Fandral, looking at Loki impatiently. Oh. He knew what the problem was. Thor wanted him along, but the others could hardly care less. Loki leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.

“How long will the hunt be?” he asked.

“As long as they ever are,” Sif said.

Loki snorted quietly. Lovely. But he knew his brother would harass him for ages if he decided to finish his book rather than go on a hunt for food that they really didn’t need. Besides, leave it to his brother to get in trouble the one time Loki would decide not to go with them.

“Fine, whatever,” Loki muttered, and stalked out the door.

Loki grabbed his cloak and daggers from his room before running to the kitchens, asking the women cooking there for some dried fruit and bread. Knowing his brother and his brother’s friends, they were expecting to catch something within the first few hours. Not that they couldn’t, but they would have packed no extra food. Besides . . . when was the last time Thor asked him to actually go hunting with him and his friends? No, now he only ever asked if they were going on an adventure that he knew mother would not approve of. And always an absolutely unnecessary one at that.

When he got to the stables, his mare had already been readied, which annoyed Loki slightly. Thor knew, he knew Loki liked to take care of his own horse. Or, then again, maybe he didn’t. The idiot was one of the most unobservant fools Loki knew.

“Come brother! Let us leave,” Thor called.

Loki mounted his horse, clicking his tongue to get her to move. The others raised eyebrows at him, but he was too busy sizing them up. The swords at Sif and Fandral’s sides, Hogun with his bow and arrows, Volstagg with his axe, and Thor even had his hammer attached to his belt.

“We’re not going hunting,” Loki said. “Not that I didn’t know that, but where are we going this time?”

“The Dark Forest,” Thor said, and Loki had to fight to keep a straight face. The mare pranced nervously underneath him, sensing his unease.

“Scared, Loki?” Sif asked. “Never pegged you as the cowardly type.”

“Admitting you’re scared is the opposite of cowardly,” Loki murmured. “And I’m not scared, I’m intelligent. No one goes into that forest and comes back unscathed. There’s a reason no one’s allowed to go in there.”

“Well then,” Thor said, finally letting his annoyance show. “You can stay behind. Just don’t tell mother where we’re going.”

“No, no,” Loki said quickly. “I’m coming with you. Someone needs to watch your back.” Thor grinned, and they cantered through the town and out the gates.

The Dark Forest. The forest to the North of the city. The forest that had more horror-stories than the other three combined. Dragons, Northern wolves, dark sorcerers, not to mention the bears. While the Northern bears normally wouldn’t be able to take an Aesir warrior, a horse would be a good meal for them. Being on foot in that forest was a good as being dead.

Indeed, as the party reached the shadowed edge of the woods, the horses shied from the shadows. Loki pulled the reins, bringing his horse to a stop. He stroked her neck, calming her. Sif had done the same, and was the first into the forest. Loki followed more slowly while the other boys wrestled their horses to follow.

Once under the trees, everything changed. The sunlight became shadows, the bird calls were muted. The grass gave way to weeds and mud and pine needles, and the light breeze fell away to air that was stifling unless it was a freezing wind from the mountains. The pine trees reached up to the heavens, their needles making paths appear where there had not been any such thing before, and fast-growing weeds making them disappear within days. Whatever rustles could be heard should be watched, just as likely to be hiding a bear or wolf as a squirrel or rabbit.

The boisterous young men behind Loki had quieted, and he could only hope they were rethinking their decision to go on an adventure in the Dark Forest, because it was a stupid one. The mare was besieged with flies, and Loki whispered a spell to keep them away. Sif turned in her saddle, the stallion twitching underneath her in response to the insects.

“Can you do that for me?” she asked quietly. Loki raised an eyebrow at her, waiting patiently for her to decide whether her pride or comfort was more important. Sif frowned at him, but gave in when one of the flies started orbiting her head like a moon. “Please,” she hissed, her tone exasperated. With a smirk, Loki complied. Sif may call him a coward, may not like him at all, but she never belittled his magic. That was their unspoken agreement. He didn’t say anything about her masculine habit, and she didn’t mention his . . . more feminine one. They understood each other.

“Are you going to help the others?” Sif asked quietly. Loki turned to look back at Fandral and Thor, who were behind him. Their hands swatted fruitlessly at the flies, their horses also seemed rather uncomfortable. Fandral’s dun-coated stallion twitched constantly, tossing its head in discomfort.

“I . . . assume you mean the horses?” he asked.

“Hm . . .” Sif hummed, as if considering. “Yeah, I guess I mean the horses.”

“Did they guilt you into coming too?” Loki asked. Sif hesitated, but Loki knew the answer. Sif often felt, as a young warrior, and a woman to boot, that she had a lot to prove. As such, she was often made to do things she didn’t particularly want to do in the same way Loki was. The coward approach. Though Sif was often the one who pulled it on Loki, they both knew that neither really thought the other a coward. They both knew the bravery it took to do the opposite of what is expected of you.

“I’m not as suicidal as they are,” she said quietly. “I think that we shouldn’t be going to the Dark Forest for our . . . like . . . fourth ‘adventure’. I don’t know what Fandral and Thor were thinking when they decided they wanted to come in here.” With a whisper and a smile, Loki shooed the flies away from the other horses.

“Loki!” Thor’s irritated voice came from behind him.

“Yes brother?” a smirk played across Loki’s face.

“Can you use your magic to get rid of these accursed flies?” his brother’s loud, brusque voice rang through the pine forest, splitting the silence.

“Speak louder Thor, I couldn’t hear you,” Loki said sarcastically, turning in the saddle to look at the older prince.

Thor opened his mouth, obviously to yell, but seeing Loki’s incredulous expression, he closed it for a second. Then he spoke. “You were joking.”

“Yes Thor,” Loki said, exasperated. “I was being sarcastic. I was joking.” Sometimes it was like explaining things to a baby, insulting Thor’s intelligence. He almost had to say ‘Thor, I’m insulting you’ to get him to understand.

His brother was quiet for a while, but the discomfort soon had Fandral and Volstagg voicing their discomfort as well. But Loki had long since decided that until they decided that comfort was more important than pride, they could live without Loki’s magic.

“Loki, could you please banish these pests?” Hogun’s quiet voice cut through the brash loudness of Volstagg’s complaints.

“For you my good sir?” Loki said, playing it up as much as he could. “Of course.” Hogun may follow his brother just as much as the others, but at least he had good manners and a quiet countenance. The others seemed vaguely betrayed by this, asking Loki why he suddenly favored Hogun.

“Oh Norn’s sake,” Loki hissed. “They’re insects. Surely they can’t hurt as courageous warriors as yourselves.”

“Loki,” Volstagg said, “I would request that you would please banish said insects.”

With a smirk, Loki did so. They were catching on. But honestly, if he hadn’t cast a silencing spell on the area around their little party, they would have attracted much unwanted (by him, anyways) attention long ago.

They had set out on this adventure after the midday meal, and the sun was dipping near the horizon when Sif, who was at the head of their little party with Loki behind her, decided to stop. Reining her horse in, she dismounted in the middle of a small natural clearing. The sun was beginning to set, causing the small wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail to be tinged gold.

Loki dismounted behind her, leading his midnight black mare to a tree, loosely tying her reins to a low branch and leaving her to graze on the sparse plants after relieving her of the saddle. The other boys dismounted heavily, all but Hogun, their boots clomping on the ground in excitement. Loki scowled at them, but turned quickly towards the edge of the clearing, hiding his expression from his brother. No need for Thor to know that this trip had already gotten to him.

“Where are you going brother?” Thor calls as Loki slides between the trees at the edge of the clearing.

“We will need a fire tonight, will we not?” was all he said in response as he walked further into the shadows. He did not wander far, slipping between tall pine trunks, his small feet making hardly a sound as he searched for some old, preferably dry, wood. Some might scoff at his caution, but he had left the protective, soundproof barrier back at the camp. He didn’t want to be found by a Northern Wolf or bear. Fingering the dagger beneath his leather coat, Loki crept onward, picking up some small branches as he went, circling through the dappled sunlight and poisonous weeds back towards the camp.

When he entered the clearing, the others had already set up their bedrolls, all as close to the fire Sif had started and was feeding with twigs as they could get. Loki knew well that there would be no room for him, no inclusion. He dumped the branches next to Sif, who looked up at him with a little frown before quickly turning back to the fire. “I told them to leave a place for you,” she said, almost apologetically, though Loki guessed that she simply was hoping to get out of the inevitable pranks that would come from his by then frozen fingers. And all the luck to her; Loki planned on sparing no one.

The days in the Dark forest were so hot as to be stifling, but at night the wind came down from the mountains. There was frost on the ground in the mornings more often than not. Loki crouched next to the fire as Hogun brought ‘round some of the food from his saddle bags. The dry bread and cheese was washed down with water from their bottles as the sun dipped below the treeline, plunging the clearing into shadow. After the meager meal, Thor took Loki aside.

“You have been shielding us,” the larger boy said, looming over his younger brother. Loki pushed his jaw forward, crossing his thin arms over his chest.

“So what if I have?” he asked impetuously. “This forest is a death-trap, especially with your loud voices and inability to notice when something dangerous is near-by.”

“This is a quest, Loki!”

“On the contrary, this is a misguided adventure. A quest is requested because someone or something is causing trouble. You are here looking for trouble. Looking for some scars and stories and glory. What is glory but a word? None of the sorcerers that live here have done anything against the people in centuries unless they entered the forest. Some things are better left undisturbed, Thor.”

His brother frowned. “That is a coward’s excuse, brother,” he rumbled.

“I am not a coward!” Loki hissed, affronted. He was here, wasn’t he?

“Then use not your magic to conceal us! I will not abide by your trickery Loki! Perhaps I ought to have left you to your womanly arts.”

That really was the last straw. Not that he could do much physical damage to his brother, ox that Thor was, but Loki drew himself up to his full height. He was a good few years younger than Thor, but he was tall for his age, and if he looked straight ahead he would be looking at his brother’s sparse beard. “Why didn’t you then?” he asked, voice quiet. Almost everyone else would have noticed the venom and quiet threat behind the whispered words, but not Thor.

“Because you are my brother, and mother has told me to include you more.” So, Loki was a burden. A burden that Thor took up because mother had told him to. With a disgusted noise, Loki slid from between Thor and the tree that the lout had cornered him against.

“Fine.” Loki said, voice dangerously low. “Fine. We’ll see how long you lot last against the true wild of this forest without my magic. We’ll see if you really can be quiet. But know this Thor, I have no intention of using my ‘womanly arts’ to save your ass if you get into trouble. And you will. Trust me, you will.”

Thor looked almost murderous at Loki’s taunting, but Loki was already out of striking distance, settled opposite Sif at the fire. Sif looked up at him as he sat. She, however, knew the darkness in his eyes. She saw it in her own sometimes, when she’d been taunted about her ‘manliness’, and she knew better than to open her mouth. Loki was quietly thankful to her for that. After a few moments of silence, of Loki wrestling with himself to calm down, he spoke.

“I’ve lifted the protections,” he said. “We’ll need to stay quiet.”

“Thor was fine with you getting rid of the flies, but not the wolves,” Sif commented quietly.

Loki shrugged. “They are perfectly happy with saving you in battle, but will scowl for hours afterward if you save them,” he said. Sif scowled, as he’d known she would. They were silent for a few moments, the sound of Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun collecting more wood in the forest around the clearing. Thor had probably gone to join them, Loki thought, still simmering from their . . . discussion. Loki let the warmth of the fire surround him as the sky grew darker, graduating rapidly towards night.The others came back quickly, small bundles of small sticks in their arms, Hogun and Volstagg with a few small branches, and took their spaces around the fire. There really wasn’t much room, the fire was rather small.

It was a quiet evening, and Fandral, who normally was the one who started the conversations, was the first to turn in. The others soon followed suit, leaving the youngest member of the band to take the first, and longest, watch. Loki sat at the fire as long as he could, drawing his cloak tightly around himself to ward off the slight chill in the air. It was colder for the others, for whatever reason, but by no means was Loki comfortable. When the wolves started howling in the distance, Loki seriously considered putting the wards back up, but making them in the first place and then tearing them down had drained his power reserves slightly, and he was too tired to make more. Not to mention the fact that he did not feel the need to raise his elder brother’s ire over a few wolves that would probably stay clear of the fire and the smoke.

Thor snored, Loki noted, annoyed. Sure, he’d noticed it before, but never had they been seeking trouble in the Dark Forest. Loki wished his brother wouldn’t strangle him if he cast a muffling spell. But Thor would, so Loki wouldn’t. A twig snapped behind him, and Loki whirled around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sif raise her head from her sleeping roll. Loki’s mare began whickering, and her nervous prancing woke the other horses, who began tugging at the reins that kept them tethered to the trees. This woke the other boys, who leapt to their feet wildly, looking around. Loki rose more slowly, and Sif did so a moment after. Stepping slowly, Loki walked towards the area the sound had come from as the other boys tried to calm the horses. Sif crept forward with him. The moon was a sliver in the sky tonight, so the only real light in the area was the slowly dying fire at their backs.

Shadows shifted among the trees, shapes moving amongst the weeds and tall, straight tree trunks. The horses had calmed slightly, stamping their hooves uneasily, but they were now quiet.

Loki and Sif crept onward, stopping only a moment at the line of black shadows. Thor came up beside them, peering into the darkness. He had his hammer in his hand, and had it raised challengingly. Which really wouldn’t be a problem if Loki thought that it was animals that had made the sound. But it had been too deliberate, too loud, to have been a wolf, and a bear would have the horses screaming in fear, not just a whickering, prancing nervousness. There were people watching them.

“Put the hammer down, Thor,” Loki hissed, but Thor simply scowled at him.

“Be quiet, Loki,” he growled. Loki bit his lips to stop the retort that sprang to his tongue at being brushed aside like that. Eyes in the shadows began appearing, the firelight glancing off them, turning the eyes into beacons of light that were not at all welcoming. “Show yourselves!” Thor demands loudly, his voice cutting the silence like a very loud knife.

“We show ourselves to no-one, least of all you,” a voice came from the shadows. It was male, powerful, deep and resonating. A sorcerer. Loki tugged Thor back as the elder stalked forward, towards the dark shadows.

“You dare speak so to the sons of Odin?” Thor growled.

“Sons? How interesting.” The voice hummed quietly. “Why are you here, Sons of Odin?” There was something in the way the voice slid over the word ‘sons’, as though laughing. The way one might if they didn’t truly believe it.

“We are on a quest,” Thor said, and Loki saw Sif sigh slightly out of the corner of his eye.

“A quest!?” This voice was female, but no less powerful for it’s slightly higher register. “I think not. None of us have left our home for years! You seek adventure and danger and all things that are better left alone!”

There were hisses from the darkness, and the eyes all blinked. Volstagg added wood to the fire, and flames sprang up, beating the shadows back. All the light caught, however, were the hems of cloaks whipping out of sight, back into the shadows. Thor stalked forward. “Leave us then,” the brazen young man said loudly, confidently. “If you truly mean us no harm.” Though Loki could not see Thor’s face, he knew that his brother had a swaggering grin on his face. A stupid confidence.

“Do you mean us harm?” The man spoke again.

Thor scoffed. “Of course not.” But Thor had always been such a terrible liar. These were Dark sorcerers, to go back home with the death of one of those on your hands was cause for celebration. These were long enemies of the crown of Asgard, no matter what they had done in the past to atone for their ancestor’s mistakes, and Thor knew this. The knowledge showed in his voice.

“Do not lie to us, Odinson!”

“We apologize,” Loki said smoothly, stepping up to his brother’s side. “This is your home, and we are trespassing. If you would allow us to stay just this night, we will leave in the morn-” he was cut off by his brother grabbing his arm in a grip tight enough to make Loki wince.

“Know your place, brother,” Thor said. There was a shifting in the shadows as Loki was pushed back a few steps, as though the dark sorcerers were affronted by this. Tension permeated the air as Thor let go of his arm, and Loki rubbed at it. He felt Sif’s hand on his shoulder, and scowled at her.

“Be gone by noon tomorrow, as the Silver-tongued offered,” said the man, and his voice was rougher, angry, and yet worried. “Or you may find that we are not welcoming hosts.” Thor growled, but the sorcerers were leaving, the circle of eyes becoming sparser, until they were all gone. Thor turned to look at Loki, an almost murderous expression on his face. Loki swore under his breath.

“Thor,” Loki said quietly, urgently. “Thor, this is their home and they have done no wrong. We shouldn’t have been here in the first place.” His brother simply scowled at him and stalked away towards the fire. Sif went after him, crouching down by the irate golden prince. Loki watched her speak with him, and Thor shook his head. Sif nodded and got back into her sleep-roll, rolling over so she was faced away from the firelight.

Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun had been standing near the horses, and now moved slowly towards the fire. The horses were calm, Volstagg’s stallion already asleep. Loki walked slowly towards his own bedroll, shivering as a cold Northern wind blew through the clearing, playing with the tongues of flame like a young child plays with streamers. Thor was angry, that much Loki could tell. The older boy’s shoulders were tense, and he was still gripping his hammer in a white-knuckled grip.

Loki slipped around his brother, still outside of the circle of heat provided by the flames. He knew he had stepped out of line, but it had been needed. The last thing they needed was Thor, or anyone from the city really, upsetting the dark sorcerers of the northern forest. They shouldn’t even be here. And if Thor decided to go after the people who had disrupted the night, what could Loki do but watch? Thor was the crown prince. The heir apparent on top of being beloved and golden and everything Asgardians care about. Their warrior prince whom would become their beloved king. Who was Loki to compare to that?

Loki slipped into the bedroll silently, glancing quickly at Thor before rolling with his back to the fire. The cold breeze caressed his face like a long-lost friend, blowing strands of hair from in front of his eyes. Quickly, Loki buried deeper under the blankets and fell into a restless sleep, eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, but mind restless with fear.


	2. Fate's Been Keeping Score

3rd Person Thor POV

Fandral had been right, Thor supposed, when he’d said that Loki would be a burden. His brother never did as he was told, and constantly stuck his skinny nose in where it didn’t belong. Thor could have handled those evil sorcerers so that they never bothered anyone again. Loki spoke as if those magical creatures were things to be reasoned with. They had both been raised on the same stories of those evil people who live in the Dark forest, and yet Loki appeared to have forgotten those. These people were tricky and not to be trusted, and yet Loki had attempted to strike a deal with them. But Thor was an Odinson, and he would go where he wished, Norns have mercy on the fools who try to stop him. His little brother lay outside the firelight, which was so like the magic-wielder. Skulking in the shadows with his thoughts and books and . . . stop it, he told himself harshly. These thoughts were not to be had in the dark like this night, with the cold wind making him shiver, even in his heavy cloak. The Lady Sif and Warriors Three had fallen to the land of dreams quite quickly, but Thor stayed up.

The fire burned low as the sky began to lighten, smoldering away to cinders as the first weak rays of sunlight filtered through the dew-drenched pine branches to fracture into little rainbows in the fog. Thor had finished the night on watch, not bothering to wake Hogun, since he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. They would need to prepare for an attack from evil sorcerers. While Thor was sure that he could defend himself just fine against a few evil magic-wielders, he was worried about Loki. His younger brother had not much experience with fighting against magic (Not that Thor himself did either . . . but he did not dwell on that fact.), Loki’s experience was all in spell-casting, not in fighting. His brother also seemed very interested in leaving this forest altogether.

Thor rose, stretching stiffness out of his tired limbs, adding some of the dryer wood from the middle of the small pile onto the fire, coaxing a small blaze from the still-warm ashes. The others began moving, sitting up quietly, stretching their muscles, which were stiff from sleeping on the ground. The frost-turning-dew covered everything, but as they began packing up the camp, the sun got warmer. The Dark forest seemed to have a climate all its own, separate from the rest of Asgard as it’s nights dip colder than any other place here (though it was a far cry from the wastes of Jotunheim) and so hot by noon that one would wish for a folly into that barren world just for some relief from the heat. Not that such a folly would need to last particularly long.

His friends and brother were packing the horses, rolling up bedrolls and spreading the damp wood to get rid of the signs of any human staying here. Thor moved to help them. Loki’s eyes were heavy-lidded, as if he had not slept well. The others all looked well-rested and aware. 

“Thor,” Volstagg said in a quiet rumble. “Perhaps Loki should head back home. He will do us no good, tired as he is, and will only slow us down. Besides, he seems to want us out of this forest. We should do the boy a favor and have him head back home.”

“We can not make him go if he does not want to,” Thor sighed. “I would wish for him to leave us as well after what happened last night, but it is impossible to trick him into leaving, and if we downright ordered him he would perhaps still be stubborn enough to stay. Besides, if he did leave, he might tell my mother about our quest.”

The older boy huffed impatiently. “Loki’s a smart boy,” he grumbled. “He wouldn’t dare tell the Queen . . . he knows we would not appreciate it. And he has no other friends. He will not risk losing us, I think.” Volstagg sounded unsure about the last bit, but quickly pulled himself together. “Besides, with the sudden addition of the evil sorcerers into the mix, Loki would be safer at the palace.”

Thor agreed wholeheartedly with what Volstagg said, but the problem was . . . well, the problem. Loki was just too stubborn, for whatever reason, to listen to Thor. Pretty much ever. Still . . . Thor watched as Loki began taking out some dried fruit from his saddle-bags, preparing a small breakfast for all of them.

“He’s going to insist we leave,” the Lady Sif said from behind him, and both Thor and Volstagg jumped a little in surprise.

“I do not plan on running, Lady Sif,” he said, thrusting his chest out proudly. The lady rolled her eyes.

They settled to a light breakfast of dried fruit and water from their water-skins. When he was done, Loki spoke. “I really think we ought to leave,” he said quietly.

“And I really think we ought not to,” Thor stated in response, annoyed.

“Those sorcerers are powerful, Thor,” Loki said. “You won’t be able to fight your way out with nothing more than brute strength.” Thor felt a flash of anger. Did his brother really think so lowly of his battle-skills that Loki thought he, the crown prince, could not beat a few magic-wielders?

“Then go home, Loki. Go back to the palace and stay there till we return, but know that we will return victorious.”

“I’m not going home without you,” Loki snapped.

“Yes, you are. Right now,” Fandral said. “You will only give us away, and your meddling magic will do us no good.”

“You seemed quite happy with my ‘meddling magic’ when you wanted the flies to leave you alone,” Loki seethed.

“A trick, nothing more,” Volstagg rumbled. “Besides, you are too young yet for this kind of danger.”

“That didn’t seem to stop you from attempting to trick me into coming,” Loki said, and Thor could tell his brother was very quickly losing the little calmness he had.

“We did not expect much more than a bear or two, maybe a wolf,” Thor said. “Not a clan of evil sorcerers.”

“They are not evil, Thor. Their ancestors may have been, but the dark clans in this forest have not bothered anyone in decades! Father has said that they are to left alone to live in peace.”

“Go home, Loki.”

“No!”

“Loki . . .” Thor growled in annoyance. “Go home or I swear you will not enjoy the consequences.”

Loki’s green eyes widened in disbelief for a moment, but Thor’s little brother knew about lies, and Thor knew that there was no sign of a lie in his voice. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Loki said. Thor let his stony expression speak for him. Loki shook his head in annoyance. “Fine,” he said, and even Thor could hear the stoniness of his brother’s voice.

“Fine,” Loki said again, turning back to his midnight mare. “See how far you get without me. If you die, just know that I could’ve helped you, and you refused.” He mounted the readied horse, and with a click of his tongue, disappeared into the thin mist between the tall pines.

“Are you sure it was wise, sending him off on his own like that?” Sif asked quietly.

“You’re welcome to go after him,” Thor said shortly. Sif closed her mouth and turned away.

Hogun doused the remnants of the fire, kicking damp dirt and peat over the coals to choke the smoke rising from the ashes. “If we are going to follow any tracks, the earlier we start the better,” he said, his voice as unemotional as ever. It was unnerving, really, how utterly blank of emotions Hogun could be. They finished packing up the campsite wordlessly, mounting their horses and heading into the trees.

The tracks were hard to find and even harder to follow. A barely-there imprint of a worn boot in the dirt, a strand of golden or red hair here or there caught on a tree branch or in some thorny bushes. Thor had yet to meet any Aesir who had the same raven-dark hair as Loki or Sif. Hogun didn’t really count, seeing as how he was a Vanir.

There had been many of the evil sorcerers around the clearing last night, but from the tracks, it had only been about three different people. And one of them was a child not much higher than Thor’s waist. How young did the evilness start that a child would join these people?

The insects came back as the day grew warmer, and the warriors of Asgard shed their heavy cloaks quickly. The trees began growing closer together, and now only ribbons of sunlight made it to the forest floor, and even some of the weeds had trouble growing. The silence of the forest was oppressive, broken only by buzzing flies and the slaps of skin-on-skin contact as the warriors swatted at mosquitoes.

They saw a bear only once, but before the animal could so much as raise it’s head towards them, Hogun had an arrow nocked and pointing at the animal. It lumbered away with a growl. “It noticed the weapon,” Hogun said quietly. “We are in hunting-grounds. We must be close.”

The smell of cooking meat came to them a few moments later; Volstagg, of course, was the first one to notice it. “We are very close,” he said. They had had a quick mid-day meal on the horses, stopping only once to refill their water-skins from a small creek. They were covered in sweat and flies, and the air was so still that one might think there had never been any wind in that dark place.

The meat smelled delicious, a mid-day meal fit for a king. They halted and dismounted quietly from the horses, tying them tightly to a low pine branch before creeping slowly forward. The large clearing from which the smell drifted was surrounded by thick evergreen bushes, behind which the party of warriors crouched, hands on the hilts of their weapons. Peering through the bushes, Thor watched as the evil sorcerers settled down for a late mid-day meal. Children were gathered in small clumps, eating greasy meat and apples. Where had the sorcerers gotten apples in a northern pine forest? Dogs weaved in among the sorcerers, who threw them scraps of meat. No . . . not dogs . . . wolves. The evil sorcerers were cavorting with wolves now, too. Well, that would explain how these evil beings had known they were in this forest.

“What are we doing here?” Sif asked worriedly. “This is their home.”

“Getting cold feet, my lady?” Fandral asked, but there was a hesitancy in his own voice.

“Hardly,” Sif shot back coldly.

“We are here to show them that even if they do not call Odin their king, they are under his laws and must be hospitable to all travelers unless given good reason not to be,” Thor said in a low growl. “And to teach them that they must not treat a son of Odin in the way they did.”

“We will fight children to strengthen your honor?” Sif asked incredulously, and Thor decided that she sounded far too much like his younger brother for his liking.

“No, we will fight the men and any others who would challenge King Odin’s rule here,” Volstagg said. Suddenly, a shadow fell across them, and they whirled around. A man stood there, tall and strong, his dark blond hair gathered into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, a wolf beside him.

“I see the silver-tongue heeded his own words,” the man said. “How intelligent of him.” It was the same voice as the night before. Thor made to pull his hammer out from his belt, but found he couldn’t move. “You ought to have left, Odinson,” he said, and the wolf’s lips pulled back, baring it’s teeth in a snarl.

“This forest does not belong to you,” Thor said boldly.

“Yes, it does, and if you hadn’t known that, then you ought to have left this morning, when it was obvious you were not welcome.”

“Heter?” Came a voice from behind the hedge, the same female voice as last night.

“Come and see what I’ve found, Keyla,” the man called. There was a flash of something red, and a woman stood before them. Her red hair was dimmed in the shadows under the pines, but he could tell it would be like fire were she to step out into the sun.

“Well well, if it isn’t the prince of Asgard and his merry little band,” she said, her lips drawing back in a snarl that rivaled that of the wolf’s. Her teeth were almost blindingly white, and her eyes a golden orange that shimmered in the darkness. She must have some fire-demon in her ancestry somewhere.

“You are here to fight us, to take our home and kill all of our warriors,” Heter said, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously.

“No, I simply-”

“Do not lie to me!” Heter yelled. There was a hush from behind the hedges. “I know when you are lying. You are not nearly as hard to read as your father,” he said, a little quieter. “Though I suppose I should have expected it to be a lie when your father promised us peace if we stayed here in our forest. That no Asgardian would come into our home to do us any harm. He said our children and our families would be safe here. A hard life, but a safe one. That’s what he said.”

Thor could feel his mind turning this over. He had heard nothing of this, only stories of the Dark forest that should discourage any and all children from ever entertaining the idea of entering the forest to the north of the city, even once a grown and seasoned warrior.

“Perhaps, since he has broken his promise to us, we shall break our promise to him.”

“Peace, Keyla,” Heter said as the woman started forward. “We cannot kill them. Quite apart from the fact that it would not sit well with me, how do corpses deliver a message without inciting a war?”

“Then we take away what they cherish most. Have they not taken that from us? Our security and our safety? It would send a message to the All-father, and punish these trespassers.”

Another flash of light, this one purple, and a little girl with fiery red-blond hair and dark blue eyes was suddenly behind Keyla, clutching at the woman’s skirt with tiny hands. “Mum,” she whined, looking up at the woman. “Mum, Peyjo pushed me!” Keyla sighed.

“Mummy’s busy right now dear, go back with your friends.”

“But he pushed me! Daddy . . .” she trailed off as her eyes caught the Asgardians half-crouching by the hedge. Thor would have made his move then, while Keyla was distracted, except the wolf and Heter were still staring them down, a kin darkness in their eyes. Still . . . if one of them could grab the girl . . . . With a flash, this one more red than purple, the girl disappeared.

“You would harm her to secure your own freedom,” Heter said, sounding disgusted, almost disturbed, in fact. Thor had forgotten that the evil sorcerer seemed to know his thoughts as soon as he had them. “You have destroyed any hesitance I would have had in terms of placing a curse upon you.” Sensing the danger that was about to befall he and his friends, Thor raised his hammer (It appeared that he could move again. Perhaps the girl’s appearance had startled the man enough to cause him to lose his control), ready to fight his way out. But with a snap of her fingers, Keyla turned their weapons to mist. Heter raised his hands, a dark kind of energy sparking between his fingers, and Thor braced himself for the blow, squeezing his eyes shut. Only it never came.

“Stop!”

Thor’s eyes snapped open, staring as his brother leapt from his mare, leaving her untethered as he ran towards Heter. The sorcerer lowered his hands for a moment, but something kept Thor and the warriors three (plus the Lady Sif) in place.

“Ah, the Silver-tongue,” Heter said, sweeping Loki a bow. “Come to save your brother yet again?” Again, the way Heter said the word ‘brother,’ his tone sliding over it in a laugh, as if he did not believe it. It drove Thor crazy.

Loki swallowed visibly, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion as Heter straightened back up. But the confusion did not last long. Loki’s face cleared as he took a deep breath. “I will take the punishment of these warriors if they are allowed be leave unharmed, yes.” Heter’s mouth lifted in a slight smile.

“You are sure? Taking upon yourself all of their punishments will make the spell permanent. If you were to allow them to take upon themselves the burden they created, they might one day regain what it takes from them.”

“Not any time soon, and probably not ever,” was Loki’s reply. “Asgard cannot afford to lose it’s finest warriors in such a way.”

“Loki . . .” Thor growled, a sudden fear rising in him. What was Loki doing? He tried desperately to move, but the spell held fast. Keyla leered at him.

“And Asgard can afford to lose you?”

“Maybe. But they will not.”

“You have a strong will,” Heter agreed amiably. “But this punishment is meant to break wills.” Loki smirked.

“Then see this as a test. If your punishment keeps me down, consider this the strongest in the nine realms.”

“You are sure?”

“Indubitably.”

The evil sorcerer nodded, and Thor heard his friends let out a gasp as Heter put his large hands on either side of Thor’s little brother’s pale face. The man bent down to whisper something in the dark-haired boy’s ear, and Loki nodded. The wolf had followed his master, and sat looking up at Loki with it’s huge grey head tilted to the side.

“Get away from him!” bellowed Thor, but the evil sorcerer didn’t so much as twitch.

“Be quiet,” Keyla hissed. “If Heter is distracted, your brother will be hurt.” Her voice slid over the word ‘brother’ in the same way the man’s did, a disbelieving bubble of mirth. This didn’t go over well with Thor. Why did they not believe that Loki was his brother? Or were these evil magic-wielders trying to mess with his head?

“What is he doing, if not hurting Loki?” Sif asked angrily.

Keyla scowled. “The young prince is taking your punishment for trespassing onto himself. Do not act as if this is our fault. It is yours.” Thor turned his gaze back to his little brother as Heter let go of his face. Loki crumpled to the ground. Thor’s world narrowed down suddenly, and all he could see was the still figure at the feet of an evil sorcerer and the wolf. Distantly, he heard a scream, and he wasn’t sure whether it was him or not. His vision blurred with red, the forest around him disappearing as Thor tried vainly to get to his brother.

Thor had thought that the red was due to anger, but soon enough it dissipated, along with the spell that was holding him stationery. He scrambled to his feet from the crouch he found himself in, and rushed over to his little brother. Sif beat him there.

Sif cradled Loki against herself, brushing the hair from his face, her fingers pressing to the pulse-point on his neck. “He’s alive,” she gasped. “Oh, Norns, he’s alive.” Thor reached out toward his brother, but Sif slapped his hands away. “This is your fault,” she hissed, dark eyes narrowing at him.

“My fault!?” he asked incredulously. “I did not ask for this!”

“You as good as!” she snapped. “He told us we ought to leave, he told us of the danger; yet once again you ignored him, and once again he paid the price for your foolishness!” Thor drew back as if struck.

“We shall continue this conversation later,” Hogun’s grave voice split the tension that hung thick in the air. “For now, I do believe the prince could do with a healer’s care.” Thor looked up towards his friend, and for the first time noticed where he was. The trees thinned to an open plain not five paces in front of them, and Thor could see the golden glint of the city in the distance. Volstagg and Fandral held their horses’ reins behind them, looking worried. Sif stood quickly, hoisting Loki up so that she could place him on her own horse. Hogun helped her situate the limp boy against her so that she could hold him.

Thor couldn’t help but feel angered by this. Loki was his brother, Thor should be the one taking care of him. Sif did not trust him with his own brother. ‘ . . . yet once again you ignored him, and once again he paid the price for your foolishness!’ Sif’s words came back to him, condemning and blaming him. Thor mounted his horse in a black mood, dark thoughts swirling around his head as they rode back to the city.

\------------------------------

Thor’s father was not pleased. Which . . . may have been the understatement of the millenia. Frigga had been waiting for them in the stables, hands on her hips and her lips thinned impatiently. Thor was the first one in the stables. “You are home early, what happened?” Thor knew better than to ask how his mother knew they were home before the stable-hands.

“Sorcerers,” he grumbled irritably. As Thor secured his steed in the stable, Sif entered, leading both her own horse and Loki’s. Frigga noticed the midnight mare at once.

“Where is Loki?” she asked, and one would have to be deaf not to hear the worry in her voice.

“Volstagg and Fandral are taking him up to the healers’ wards,” Sif said, giving her own steed off to the stable hands, leading Loki’s mare into her stall. The way she brushed the horse down, tenderly, but with her hands trembling, bespoke of anger thrumming beneath her skin. As soon as she heard what Sif had said, Frigga rushed from the stables.

Hogun entered after the Queen had left, leading three horses. His own grey steed, Volstagg’s roan and Fandral’s dun-coated horse. Thor quickly gave the care of his horse to a stable-hand, watching Sif as the young warrior maiden waved away a stable-hand offering to take over for her.

“Stop looking at me,” Sif said suddenly, and Thor started. When Sif turned to face him, her mouth was drawn into a thin line, and her dark eyes had lost none of their fury.

“Surely, Lady Sif, you would let a stable-hand take over that task?” He asked, to fill the silence. He’d never felt comfortable in silence. Not like Loki.

Her expression grew furious. “I would do something for Loki, something no matter how small, to thank him for what he has done this day,” she hissed. “He took not only your punishment, but all of ours. I do not know if this just hasn’t hit home to you yet, but Loki is hurt because of us.”

“He is unconscious,” Thor pointed out. “He may not be hurt at all.” He hoped he wasn’t hurt. Oh, Norns how he hoped.

Sif dropped the brush she held in a nearby basket, leaving the stall to stand right in front of him. The girl’s face was a flame of fury, brown eyes glaring up at him. Anyone who said that Sif was not a warrior had another thing coming. In opposition to her face, Sif’s voice was an icy calm. “Are you daft, my prince?” the condescension in her voice turned the title into an insult. The stable hands stopped their jobs to watch the confrontation. “He took upon himself the punishment of five people for trespassing, and entertaining the idea of using a child -a child Thor, how could you!?- as a bargaining piece to secure freedom. He took all of that upon himself, and dark sorcerers are not forgiving beings. Just because there is no blood does not mean he has not been hurt by our folly.” Thor felt the blood rising to his face, though whether from anger or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. Sif returned to the stable, stroking Loki’s mare, who nuzzled into the shield-maiden’s hand.

Thor felt a hand on his arm, Hogun leading him out of the stables and across the cobblestone courtyard to one of the many gardens placed in the area of the palace.

“Sif is angry,” the young man said quietly. “‘Tis best, I think, to give her time to cool down.” Thor shrugged off his friend’s hand.

“And what about you?” he demanded. “What do you think caused this mess?”

“This ‘mess’ as you call it, is your little brother being hurt.” Hogun said. “I think Loki is a smart boy, smart enough to make his own decisions. I also think that perhaps we should listen more closely to his voice of reason in the future.”

“You do blame me,” Thor accused. “Do not think I do not notice your dancing around the real question.”

Hogun sighed, dropping down under a tree with branches that dipped to the ground, leaves a shimmering silver that reflected off the water of the small fountain a few feet away. “I don’t blame anyone. Each person made their own choices, which brought us here today. There are things we can take from this experience, things we can learn from. But as far as blame goes . . . it does no good. It will not turn back the clock, nor can one learn from a mistake if they are always looking for someone else to blame.”

Thor dropped to the ground with a huff. Trying to make sense of any advice Hogun gave was like trying to understand Loki when he talked about magic and reading and all of those things. Well . . . when his brother talked about anything, really.

A guard came around the corner, stopping in front of the prince. “You father would like to speak with you, Prince Thor,” the man said, and Thor nodded. Hogun nudged him in the ribs, and Thor stood, following the guard into the palace, along huge corridors gilded in gold and inset with windows that looked out towards either the sea or the eastern forest.

It didn’t take long for Thor to notice that they were heading not towards the healing wards, as he had expected, but towards the throne room. The guard stopped at the great, gilded doors, motioning Thor to enter. He did so hesitantly. The large room was unusually empty, and Thor suddenly felt exposed without his armor and hammer, which he had taken off when they arrived at the castle. One of the more recent times he had been here was due to a trick Loki had played that had gotten their father’s attention, and the hall had been filled with people, either there inadvertently or because they were curious and wanted to see the trickster prince’s punishment. Now Thor’s footsteps echoed back at him from the huge walls that enclosed the space. Thor did not enjoy the silence, but he disliked his father’s expression even more. Thor hated for his father to look that disappointed. He hardly ever looked at Thor with that expression. Sometimes when he had been roped into one of Loki’s pranks . . . but never before had Thor taken the full force of that expression. Disappointing his father did not sit well with Thor, not at all.

“What were you doing in the Northern forest, Thor?” his father asked without preamble.

“H-hunting,” Thor responded, stumbling a little over the word. Curse his leaden tongue. Loki was so much better at this. At lying.

“Do not lie to me, Thor.” It would have been better if he had yelled. The raw disappointment made Thor flinch slightly. Then he berated himself. Warriors are never afraid, and he was a warrior.

“You went for adventure,” Odin continued, standing from his throne in one smooth motion. “You went for glory and battle, and you come back with a brother in need of the healers.”

“I-” Thor didn’t know what he was going to say, but Odin cut him off.

“I would know who did this.”

“Evil sorcerers, father. A man named . . . Heter, and a woman named Keyla.” Suddenly, Odin seemed to lean on Gungnir more than normal.

“What did you do to provoke them, Thor?”

“I didn’t do-” once again, he was cut off by Odin.

“Yes, Thor, you did!” Odin’s voice echoed through the large chamber. “Keyla Loresdotter may be hot of temper, but she will not attack without reason. You were trespassing. They gave you a warning, did they not?” Wordlessly, Thor nodded. “And you ignored it.” Again, Thor nodded. Odin sighed. “Loki took your punishments, didn’t he?”

How did he know? Thor felt as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Your guilt is plain to read on your face,” Odin said. “And the magic that has gripped Loki is of a sinister nature, though perhaps not as much as it could be, given the situation.”

“He wanted to come back,” Thor said suddenly. He couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “Loki wanted to come back when we were given the warning. So I sent him back here. I did not think he had followed us.”

“Of course not,” Odin scoffed. “You did not think at all, boy!” Thor scowled in annoyance.

“I did not mean for this to happen!”

“No? Well, it happened anyway! You must learn to think before you act, Thor.”

“You do not have time to think in a battle,” Thor responded.

Odin sighed again, his voice quieting back to the raw disappointment again as he said: “Always with you it is battle and war. They call your brother the bringer of chaos, yet it might be you who is more worthy of that title.”

Odin sat once more in his throne, lips pressed into a thin line, and Thor knew his father was reining in his anger.

“Where is Mother?” Thor asked quietly.

“In the healers’ wards with your brother,” Odin said, making a gesture that Thor took to mean that he should leave. He did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the story is living up to expectations! Thanks so much for the lovely response so far! And I edited a bit quicker than normal, if I missed anything, feel free to let me know!


	3. Struck Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!!!! Trigger Warning for Ableist language- A Warrior Culture like Asgard would likely not have been understanding of physical disabilities, especially if untied to some great story or power (Odin's loss of an eye was, in mythology, to gain some crazy WISDOM.) I'm very sorry, and if you want to skip it . . . well, that might be difficult because some of it comes from Loki himself (and will be re-occurring throughout this story) , but Thor's part is the worst, so if you skip to Sif's POV, basically Thor finds out what the curse did to Loki, and reacts with both guilt and some heavy defensiveness.

\-------------------------------------Thor

It would have been nice if Frigga had understood Thor, if she had hugged him and thanked him for bringing Loki home, but that could only happen if Frigga was not a warrior Queen and mother, both of which she very much was.

She was sitting by Loki’s bed in the infirmary, talking with Loki as Thor entered. Loki was faced away from Thor, but when the older prince cleared his throat, Loki turned around. He didn’t really look at Thor, gazing somewhere over the older boy’s shoulder, which annoyed Thor slightly. Did his brother not deign even to look at him?

Frigga touched Loki’s chin gently, tilting his head so that Loki was looking straight at Thor. Only . . . Loki wasn’t really looking at him. His eyes were out of focus, the normally bright green milky, as if the color had been diluted. Thor clamped a hand over his mouth, staring in horror. His baby brother was blind. But no . . . this must all be a bad dream. Nothing more. Just a bad dream that he would wake from at any moment. Because . . . Oh Norns, not Loki. Please not Loki, not his baby brother.

Loki spoke quietly, but fiercely. “Don’t you dare give me pity.”

Frigga rose regally, touching Loki’s face gently to turn it towards her before speaking. “I need to speak with your brother Loki,” she said, before ushering Thor out of the healing wards.

“What will we do? Loki’s blind, he can’t-”

Frigga cut him off. “Don’t you dare say that he cannot do something,” she hissed. But Thor knew better. Blindness was a terrible curse. One could not do anything if struck blind; they became a burden.

“What happened, Thor? Loki will not say.”

“Evil sorcerers,” Thor seethed. “In the Northern Forest.”

“What were you doing, dragging your brother into that forest?” his mother asked angrily. “I thought you knew better than that.”

“I didn’t want this to happen,” Thor said. “I sent Loki home-”

“Then you do not know your brother,” Frigga said sadly. “You know he is too loyal to you to leave you alone in that place.”

“I was hardly alone,” Thor scoffed.

“I am disappointed in you, Thor,” Frigga said quietly. Thor suddenly felt like a young child again. “I will be speaking to your father about this, and know that there will be repercussions.”

Thor wondered what repercussions would shock him more than Loki’s sudden blindness. It still hadn’t quite registered with him, if he was honest. Still . . . “This is not my fault.” Frigga pursed her lips.

“You must learn to take responsibility for the consequences of your actions, Thor,” she said. “I will speak with your friends about this later, when I am more comfortable leaving Loki alone.”

“He is not a child,” Thor grumbled.

“You are wrong,Thor,” Frigga said, shaking her head. “You treat Loki as you treat the other warriors, with no regard for the fact that he is so much younger than you.” The quiet fury in her voice unnerved Thor. His mother was never this angry, not even when Loki had pulled a trick that she did not like. “He is still a child, as you would do well to remember. And he is now a child who has lost the ability to easily do what he loved.”

Thor felt his brow furrow in confusion.

“Reading, Thor. He can’t see his magic books anymore, and he cannot teach himself. He will have to rely on a tutor. You know how much his independence meant to him. He can’t have that right now.”

Thor felt guilt bubbling up inside him. But this wasn’t his fault. Loki shouldn’t have gotten in the way . . . right? The evil sorcerers were . . . well . . . evil. This was all because the evil sorcerers were bad people. This wasn’t all Thor’s fault. It couldn’t be.

Frigga glared at him as if she could read his thoughts. “Go to your room, Thor,” she said. “I can’t . . . your father and I will discuss it and inform you of your consequences.” She turned to go back into the healers’ wards.

“Mother . . .”

She stopped, turning slightly so that she half-faced him.

“Tell him that I’m sorry?” it came out as a question Thor hadn’t even really meant to ask. But Frigga nodded, a small smile on her features. Then she disappeared back into the room.

 

\-------------------------------------------------Sif

Once she had changed out of her dirty clothes and into a clean red tunic and dark brown leggings, Sif walked quickly towards the healers’ rooms. Thor had gone there earlier, she knew, but he was secluded in his room, which was unusual for the older prince. Not that Sif cared much about that. Thor had caused this mess, and Loki had, as always, cleaned it up. This time at the expense of himself. No rumors had yet reached her ears about the younger prince’s condition, but when the sorcerer Heter had cast the spell, or curse, or whatever it was, her skin had crawled and an irrational panic seized her. She’d screamed when Loki fell, as much from fear as anger.

The guards outside the healers’ wards let her pass with a nod of their heads, to which she responded with a nod of her own. The Queen was sitting next to Loki’s bed. He was faced away from Sif, speaking with his mother in a hushed voice, but he seemed alright. Until he turned to look at her. She had made not a sound, and yet he became aware of her almost before the Queen. But all of that faded from her mind when she saw his eyes. She’d always loved his eyes, which were a green as bright as the grass on the plain on a sunny summer day. But now . . . Oh Norns, now Loki’s eyes had the milky sheen of a blind man. Meaning . . . Loki had been struck blind.

She took a few steps forward, staring in some kind of fascinated horror, as she had looked at the warriors’ battle scars when she was younger. “Hello, Lady Sif,” Loki said, and his voice sounded so small, though Sif supposed that it might have been just her imagination. She’d never thought of Loki as young; after all, she was the youngest of Thor’s friends, closest to Loki in age. But now . . . he seemed suddenly so vulnerable. His eyes had lost their sharp intelligence, and Sif could tell by the way his lips were pressed together and his breaths were slow and deliberate that he felt exposed. Guilt coursed through her. She could have stopped this. She should have stopped this from happening.

“Hello, Loki.” Sif said quietly, and even she could make out the guilty tones in her voice. Loki frowned.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, and Sif caught the disapproving note in his voice. “The blame lies with me and my idiot brother. You were simply being loyal to your Prince.”

Sif almost defended Thor, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Especially now that she was looking Loki in the face, and could see how his eyes were unfocused and unseeing. If Thor had listened to his brother, just once, before things went to hell, this would not have happened. She sat in the seat opposite the Queen, watching with fascination as Loki’s head turned to follow her.

“How can you do that?” She asked, curiously,

“Do what?”

“Know where I am.”

“I can hear you,” the young prince explained. “Your footsteps and your breathing. My magic is amplifying them for me right now.”

“Oh,” Sif said, glancing at the Queen, who smiled at her.

“I must leave,” Frigga said quietly. She stood, brushing her hands across Loki’s cheek. The boy leaned slightly into his mother’s touch, smiling, before she left. As soon as the door closed however, the smile dropped from his face.

“Are you really alright?” Sif asked.

“No,” Loki answered shortly, bringing his hand up in front of his face. “I can’t see, I can’t read, and it’s dangerous for me to practice my magic.” His face tilted downward. “You don’t understand it. I can’t even describe it. I can’t see, I’ll never see again. It’s like . . . the light’s been turned off and my mind is waiting for it to come back on, but I know it never will. I keep trying to see things . . . but . . . I can’t. I’m nothing but a burden now.” Sif felt an irrational anger.

“Don’t say that,” she snapped. Loki jumped slightly. “You’ll get through this,” Sif said, standing from the chair. Loki’s face followed her as she moved. “You won’t be helpless Loki, that’s not who you are. You won’t give up!”

“Who said I’ve given up?” Loki asked, incredulous.

“You sound like you have.”

“I’m being realistic, Lady Sif,” Loki said with a sigh. “I can’t read, I can’t fight, I might as well just . . . disappear. I’m no good to anybody.”

“No, Loki,” Sif said, her mind churning. “If I can be a warrior, so can you.”

“You have natural talent,” Loki pointed out dryly. “I could never best you when we sparred, even when I could see.”

“Then I’ll teach you,” Sif said resolutely. Loki raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. “I will,” she said.

“I am a project that you will toss aside as soon as you are bored with me,” Loki said.

“What!? No! Loki . . . I know you say that this isn’t my fault, but please let me assuage my guilt by helping you.” That was the wrong thing to say.

“I don’t need your help!” Loki snarled. The room was silent for a moment. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I . . . I just . . . I’m not . . . .”

Sif put her hands up in a placating gesture, but put them down just as quickly. He couldn’t see her. “That’s fine,” she said gently. “Then just let me teach you, please.” Loki looked almost hopeful, as if he didn’t want to believe what she was saying, but did. As if he’d never been given a genuine offer of help. Which, Sif supposed, he hadn’t. Not from her or the warriors three, or recently even Thor for that matter. Which could be why he had such an aversion to the original idea that he needed help.

“Alright,” he said. “Maybe you could start with helping me get to my quarters.” So saying, Loki pushed the blankets off himself and stood. He was dressed in a green tunic and black leggings; his feet were bare. He held his long arms away from his body, as if balancing on a tree branch. “Apparently,” he said as he took a shaky step. “Seeing makes balancing easier.” Sif almost laughed. Almost. Most of the humor in the situation was as dulled-down as Loki’s eyes. She strode over to the young prince, holding his arm to steady him.

Irritably, he shook her off, but she hovered near him as he took a few more steps forward. He was walking slowly, shuffling his feet across the floor, and his hands were held out in front of him or to the side, like a child in the dark, searching for their bed. Searching for an end. Sif kept pace with him all the way to the door, directing him with a hand on his shoulder around the other beds, all of which were empty, and towards the door. She stopped him, pulling back a little on his shoulder. “Before I open the door,” she said, “I want to make this clear. I’m going to help you. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fight against that.”

“I’m not weak,” Loki said stubbornly.

“No, you’re not,” Sif agreed, her hand still on Loki’s shoulder. “You’re blind. You’ll need a little help now and again, and the first thing I’ll teach you is how to accept that.”

“You’ve never had to accept needing help,” Loki said sullenly.

“I needed help to be taken seriously,” Sif said. “Your brother and the warriors three helped me with that.”

“That’s a lot different from needing help to stand up straight.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sif said resolutely. And he would, she was sure. Loki had the easy grace of a feline, he was simply . . . a bit disoriented right now. They took the less populated hallways toward Loki’s quarters. It would be best to keep his sudden blindness a secret at the moment, until the King and Queen decided to do otherwise. When they ran into people, Sif would tell Loki to lower his head so that the people wouldn’t see his eyes.

Sif held Loki’s hand, directing him with nudges around corners and away from the small tables and chairs that decorated the hall. Some people looked at them curiously, but most were too busy to notice the unusual pair of warrior and scholar. Which Sif had decided to call Loki from now on. He wasn’t an oddity, he wasn’t Thor’s little brother, and he wasn’t the second prince. He was a scholar.

Loki’s room was next to Thor’s, as it had been since the boys had moved into separate rooms. “We’re there,” Sif said, tugging Loki to a stop. She lifted his hand, the one she still held, and touched the back of Loki’s pale, long-fingered hand to the dark wood. Loki uncurled his fingers from around her hand, and Sif let her hand fall down to her side as Loki curiously traced his door lightly with his fingers. He drew his hand across the intricacies of the door’s carving, familiarizing himself with the texture of the door.

Sif waited patiently until his hand found the handle, opening the door with a simple push down. The room inside was dark, the thick, forest-green curtains over the window blotting out most of the late-evening sunlight. Loki walked confidently into the room, making a straight line towards the bed. He must have done that often when he and Thor came home late from some adventure or another.

She followed him slowly, making her way to the curtains so as to let some light into the gloomy room. A yelp of surprise made her spin around, and she noticed that Loki had fallen face-first onto the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows, still facing away from where Sif was standing.

“It was a little closer than I thought,” he said. Sif tied the curtains back with the green ribbons that hung down the side of the window, the rustling fabric causing Loki to turn towards her. He sat at the edge of the bed, twisting one of the sheets between his nimble hands. Sif turned to go to the bed, sitting beside Loki. “You don’t need to stay with me now,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you wish to find your friends.”

“You are my friend Loki,” she answered easily. But inside, she cringed at the way that he had been prepared to be abandoned. Had the warriors three and she been so callous towards Loki? Why? She couldn’t remember. She lay back, legs dangling over the side of the bed, spread over the top of rumpled sheets. Loki fell back into the bed as well, bouncing slightly as he landed next to her. He had turned his head to face her, but his eyes were staring at her forehead rather than her face; however, she could still see his eyes. She felt another bolt of guilt go through her. Anger simmered somewhere under the surface too, anger at Thor and the sorcerers, anger at herself and the warriors three . . . anger at Loki for being so noble and self-sacrificing. He wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to be a trickster.

It was odd, she supposed, as the boy across from her blinked slowly, as if unsure whether it was happening or not, that they had all somehow pegged him as a coward. It was easy to make the sacrifice move in the heat of battle, to take a wound for a comrade in arms whom you knew you could always trust, but to do it when the blood was cold? When there was no adrenaline to numb the pain or shock? To do it when you knew of the implications, rather than as a fleeting thought? That took courage such as Sif was not sure she possessed.

She reached out gently to touch Loki’s hair, and the boy startled, sitting up suddenly. “Sorry,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting that . . . .” Sif realized how wrong it was that he was the one apologizing when he was the one hurting. So wrong.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. She sat up as well, slowly, as Loki stared vacantly at the wall.

“Can-” Loki hesitated. “Can I . . . touch your face?” he ducked his head, tucking his chin into his chest, embarrassment coloring his features.

“Sure,” Sif said, confused. Why in the world would he need to touch her face? Gently, she took his limp hand, bringing it so that the tips of his fingers brushed her forehead. Closing her eyes, she let Loki trail his fingers down her face. His fingers were cold and smooth. Still . . . Sif felt an electric thrill run through her, gentle, yet undeniably there. Loki turned so that he was facing towards her, legs folded underneath him and eyes closed as he brought his other hand up to her hair.

His touch was feather-light, her hair barely stirred as he brushed his hand through it. “Your hair seems quite a lot longer than I thought,” he murmured quietly. There was something in the way that his eyes were closed that made this seem almost normal, as if he wasn’t blind. Loki’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he ran his hand through her hair again, as if counting how many hands long it was. Sif found herself suddenly breathless, suddenly very aware of Loki’s close proximity to her and the hand that rested on her cheek. He must have somehow sensed this, because he drew his hands back slightly.

“If you find this . . . awkward . . .” he said haltingly. “I can stop.”

“No, no not at all . . . just . . . can you explain to me what you’re doing?”

“Remembering,” Loki said simply. “I . . . want to remember your face. I can’t really remember what anything looks like.”

“Why not?” Sif asked. Loki made an annoyed noise. 

“Do you remember what anything really truly looks like when you can’t see it? When you close your eyes? When the light is gone? Especially if the light is suddenly gone and you did not have the mind to memorize the area.” He sat back, drawing away from her, hands trailing across the bed behind him, lowering himself down slowly, as if afraid that he might fall off the edge. Sif considered what he had said. What would she remember if she suddenly had no sight? Closing her eyes, Sif tried to remember what Loki’s room looked like.

There was the dark-wood desk strewn with books and papers, bookshelves lining the walls with books standing up and flopped sideways, as if tired. The curtains were now open, showing the wall to be a light brown, the sheets a dark, forest green, and the stones of the cold floor were covered in black rugs. There was a chair by the bed, though she couldn’t remember anything about it. And the person who was laying down in front of her . . . he used to have green eyes, beautiful, greener-than-green eyes. But they were blind now, their brilliant color diluted. His hair was still midnight black, still just long enough to brush at the nape of his neck. He was still skinny, much more so than his brother, still probably as agile and graceful as a bird. His skin was still pale . . . but Sif couldn’t remember his face; not really. She knew his eyes had been green, and she knew what his hair looked like . . . but that was knowledge. Not memory. She tried to form his face in her mind. Tried to see it. She couldn’t. Not really. Sif opened her eyes.

Loki was laying down on the bed, turned so that his legs dangled again over the edge. His eyes were closed, his hands folded quietly on top of his chest. He could have been sleeping, except that when Sif opened her mouth to say something, he spoke. “No pity,” he warned.

“Alright,” she said, closing her mouth. They sat there in silence for a while. She didn’t know what to do. What do you do with a blind boy? Sif hadn’t spent much time with Loki before this . . . so she knew not what would entertain him. And she would not leave him alone. She knew Loki well enough to know that his calm was a front, that he would do something drastic if he was left alone.

“Tell me a story?” Loki asked.

“What kind of story?” Sif asked quietly. She didn’t know many; mostly the ones her mother and father had told her when she was younger.

“I don’t care,” Loki said, eyes still closed. “Make one up.” So she did.

 

\--------------------------------------- Loki

 

Sif was the one who found him. Of course she was. Thor was probably being ‘talked to’ by their parents, and Sif was nosy at the best of times. Loki turned his face away from the sound of the door opening, his shaking fingers clutching the leather cover of the book in his hands. He had barely been able to decipher the title enough to know that he held a book of children’s tales; one he had loved.

His cheeks were already wet and sticky from the tears, more of frustration than anything else. He had hoped that he might have been able to read the book, that maybe the letters had been indented into the page when the stories had been written. He might as well have tried to tell the difference between two different colors by the texture of the cloth, blind as he was.

Sif closed the door behind her, her booted feet making a soft noise as she came towards him, leather squeaking. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

“No less so alright than one would expect,” Loki muttered, still faced (he hoped) away from her. Sif let out a small hum, keeping the noise going as her slender hand found the base of his neck, turning his face gently towards her. He let her; really, he was too tired to resist. He had fallen asleep, he supposed, while Sif was telling him the story, but it was hard to sleep, or know you were asleep, when you were blind. Darkness is the same all over. Loki’s chest hurt as he pushed down a sob, tears starting to sting his eyes again. His mouth and throat felt sticky, as if the salty tears had bleached the water from his insides.

“Loki . . .” Sif let out an airy sigh, and Loki felt her breath brush across his cheek. Her hand pried the book from his shaking fingers, though Loki grasped at it as she lifted it away. “Do you want me to read this to you?” she asked. Loki shook his head.

“No . . . I want to read it,” he said. He knew he sounded petulant, like a whining child who wasn’t allowed to play with a weapon, but rather must watch the warriors, all the same . . . . He felt Sif sit next to him, but was surprised when she put an arm around him, hugging him into her warm side. His cheek fell against her shoulder, the rough fabric of her tunic itching slightly against his skin. Her hand was tight on his right arm, the one furthest from her, and it took Loki a while to notice that she was trembling slightly. Or maybe that was him.

“You can cry,” Sif said quietly. “What you said . . . about being brave enough to admit you’re scared? It’s even braver to cry.”

Loki didn’t really believe her. Crying was giving into the fear. But the tears were coming anyway. It was him that was shaking. He buried his face into the crook between her shoulder and neck, her soft scent making its way into his nose as a tear slipped out of his eyes. He felt the sticky wetness against his skin, marking a trail down his cheek. He could feel the coldness it left behind. He felt Sif bring her left hand up, carding it through his hair as silent tears slipped out.

Loki could feel the cloth grow wet beneath his face, but the young woman didn’t seem to care. She kept gently stroking his hair, sitting quietly next to him, someone to lean on. “Oh, Loki,” Sif murmured. “Loki why do you do this to yourself?”

“I thought . . . I thought I would be able to feel the letters,” he said, miserably. A small hiccup escaped with the words. “I can’t let this beat me, I can’t. I don’t want to be useless.”

He felt Sif tense, her right arm constricting slightly, bringing him closer to her. “You are not useless. Not now, not ever,” she said angrily. “What you did for us . . . you shouldn’t have. It is not your duty to save us from everything we get into, and yet you do. And you never get any recognition, but know this: that you will never be useless.”

Loki sat up, trying to face toward where Sif sat next to him. “How can you say that?” he asked incredulously. “How can you say that I will never be useless when I am already so?”

Suddenly, Sif was crying into his shoulder. “What have we done to give you such a low opinion of yourself Loki? What can I do to remedy all of the wrongs I have dealt to you?”

“You have dealt me no wrongs,” Loki said, confused.

Sif shook her head, and Loki could feel the point where her forehead met his shoulder changing position as she did so. “I have not been kind to you,” Sif muttered. “I have treated you less than you deserve.”

Slowly, Loki brought his right hand up, raising it until it found Sif’s hair where it hung down over her right shoulder. Softly, Loki stroked the smooth, silky strands, letting the feeling calm him slightly. “Stop it,” he said. “It does no good to dwell on the past.” He knew how hypocritical those words were; after all, was attempting to read a book not dwelling on the past; back when he could read? But Loki was too tired to care. Being always in the light of sleep, which is to say, no light at all, would take some getting used to.

With a sniffle, Sif leaned back slightly, and loki heard her settle next to him again. There was a quiet rustling of fabric, that if Loki knew Sif, would be the warrior maiden wiping the tears from her face. They sat in some silence for a while, and a buzzing started in Loki’s ears.

“Could you read it to me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Sif said, voice tight. “Of course I will.”

The quiet creak of old leather opening came to Loki’s ears along with pages being turned. Sif’s voice came, reading quietly, a story about the Dark elves and their power source, the Aether. It had been one of Thor’s favorite stories as a child; though Loki was never really much for the war stories. He tried to focus on the words, to block out all of the unpleasant thoughts that had been swirling through his head ever since he discovered he would never see again, but he knew the story too well, and his mind began wandering despite his efforts.

How long would the young woman beside him stay there? How long until she got bored of her little project? Loki didn’t want to have to rely on someone. That wasn’t who he was; he was independent enough to teach himself and he quite enjoyed it that way. But that would not work anymore. Being a burden was not in Loki’s nature; accepting help, even less so.

But Sif certainly seemed to be acting against her nature, so he supposed he could try the same. Perhaps it would not be all so bad as he thought. Which brought Loki back around to his original question: for how long would Sif be helping him? Could he trust her not to abandon him? Trust wasn’t really in Loki’s nature either.

Sif continued reading, a warm figure beside him in his darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should let you know that I have no personal or close experience with blindness, I'm more familiar with deafness in young children. If I get anything wrong (particularly if it is glaringly wrong) PLEASE let me know!


	4. I've Been Down Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sif is angry at Thor, Loki's angry at everyone (but trying not to show it) and Frigga just wants to be a mother again.

\--------------------------------------------------------Thor

Thor was fuming slightly. Only slightly. For the most part. Mostly. Of course. Just that. That was all. Only slightly. He slammed the book closed. His parents had confined him to his room and to his studies. Thor absolutely detested not being able to leave the book untouched on his little-used desk and go sparring with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. Normally Thor would blow off his studies and make Loki fill him in on what he needed to know. Except . . . whenever he thought of Loki now, all he could see were those eyes. Those diluted, blind eyes.

Thor closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He had long ago swapped out the stiff, straight-backed chair for a more comfortable armchair to sit in when he was forced into his studies. 

There was a knock at his door, and he called for the person to enter. He was pleasantly surprised to see the Lady Sif standing in the doorway, that is, until he got a good look at her face. She’d been crying, the skin around her eyes was still puffy and red, but her face was twisted in anger.

“What is it, Lady Sif?” Thor asked, absentmindedly wondering what he had done. He hadn’t seen her looking this angry since her hair had been cut off.

“Don’t ‘Lady’ me, Thor,” she hissed, closing the heavy doors behind her. Thor decided that staying silent might be best for his health. Sif stayed by the door, staring at him for a while before speaking again. “What did you do to deserve him?”

Thor didn’t bother to ask her who she meant. Sif had been spending much of the past week with Loki. Thor’s brother still had not left his room, taking meals in his chambers. Thor wondered how his brother ate without seeing his food, but perhaps it had something to do with the young woman in front of him. Thor had yet to see his brother, he hadn’t sought him out since he’d seen Loki in the infirmary. But whether it was because he was too ashamed, or too guilty, or too angry, even Thor himself did not know. Carefully, he pushed the armchair back from the desk, turning so that he could face his friend. “If you have come to rebuke me, Sif, I do not wish to hear it.”

“You will hear it anyway,” she said fiercely. “He asked about you, said that you haven’t come to visit him since he left the infirmary.” Left, Thor thought, was an odd way of putting it. Escape might be a better term. Eir and Mother had been near frantic when Loki was suddenly gone from the infirmary, until one of the serving girls had told them that they had seen the youngest prince walking the halls with the Lady Sif.

“I . . . I’m just . . .,” Sif cut off his stammering.

“You’re just a coward,” and it was a mark of their friendship that Thor let Sif speak to him in such a way without throwing her from his chambers. “You are afraid that Loki will not forgive you, or that your brother will be forever blind because of your actions. In regards to the first fear, you need not worry. Loki is devoted to you, or are you the blind one not to see that? And the second, it’s a little late to be worrying about that. It’s already happened.”

Thor’s lips compressed into a thin line. “What is it that you want me to do?”

“Visit him,” Sif said. “Come see him with me. I’ve been reading him stories. I suppose you don’t know how much not being able to read devastated him, but I’d never seen him . . .” suddenly Sif stopped, biting her lip, as if she had said more than she meant to.

“You’ve never seen him what, Sif?”

She shook her head. “Help me help your brother through this, Thor. He needs you.”

“Loki has never needed anyone,” Thor said without thinking. Sif bristled.

“He has always needed you, whether he’s shown it or not,” she said. “He has needed us, and we have not been there for him. Who has comforted him when vicious rumors spread through the city? No one. He is not nearly as celebrated as you are, despite the number of times he has saved us single-handedly, and who tells him that he as at least as good as you? Perhaps your Mother. Perhaps. No one else. Because they all thought he didn’t need anyone.” Sif’s face was flushed red in some kind of righteous anger. “And now,” she continued, “now he believes it himself. He doesn’t want to burden anyone else with his problems. Not even when that person wants to help. He won’t accept it. All he sees in an offer of assistance is a trick or eventual let-down. He doesn’t truly trust anyone anymore.” Sif leaned against the wall, looking tired. “Am I the only one who remembers when he used to trust everybody? When he smiled for the smallest reason? Before . . . .” she trailed off. Thor knew what she was thinking of. Before his brother was drawn more into his books and his magic, before the rumors and nasty words started making their way from mouths to ears regarding his little brother.

Sif shook her head. “He’s not that little boy anymore, and I don’t think he ever will be again. But he needs you, Thor. He trusts you not to leave him alone in the dark.”

“But I have, I left him to the dark in the first place,” Thor said, slumping in the red velvet chair. “He will never trust me again. He did not trust me in the forest.”

“He did not trust your judgement in the forest, that does not mean that he does not trust you.”

“What exactly is it about me that he trusts, then?”

“The fact that you are his brother.”

Thor ran a hand over his face, feeling the stubble on his skin catch slightly on the calluses of his hand. “Some brother I am. I can’t even face him, Sif. He blames me, I know he does.”

“And he will never forgive you if you don’t try to gain his forgiveness,” Sif said. She walked closer to him, holding out a hand as if to help him up. Hesitantly, he took it, allowing the deceptively slender maiden to hoist him to his feet. “Good,” Sif said shortly, turning sharply to walk towards the door. “Come on, then.”

It amazed Thor how quickly Sif’s mood seemed to change. He had never understood it; Loki said it was because Thor was daft in general, and why would it be any different when it came to girls? He had to walk quickly to keep up with the girl, who seemed almost exited.

They were outside Loki’s room very quickly, and Sif slipped inside the heavy dark-wood doors. Thor hesitated, hand just above the handle. Loki was inside. Loki hadn’t wanted even to see (what a cruel thought that was) their Mother . . . why in the Nine would he want Thor to be anywhere near him? Sif opened the door, a glower on her face. “You coming?”

So he took a deep breath, and stepped through the door. It was light inside the room, late morning sunlight coming in through the open window along with a warm, lazy breeze and the faint sounds of the city. Loki was sitting in a chair, half faced toward the window so that the part of his face that Thor could see was cast in shadow. His eyes were closed when he turned towards Thor, and a slight smile quirked his lips up.

“Hello, Brother,” Loki said.

With his eyes closed, Thor’s little brother looked as he always had. A light green tunic and black leggings, his longish black hair slicked back from his pale forehead. But there was some sort of vulnerability Loki showed with his eyes closed. Loki stood smoothly from the chair, and Sif watched him closely as he took a few steps towards Thor. The boy stopped after those few steps, turning his head as if to look around the room.

Sif let out a soft hum, and Loki began walking in her direction. She went to meet him, putting a hand on his shoulder and steering the boy to where Thor stood. Sif took Loki’s slim, pale hands in her own tan ones, lifting it until it hovered over Thor’s face. A smile quirked her lips, and Thor guessed that it was due mostly to his confusion. Thor shifted uncomfortably as Loki’s fingertips trailed over his face. It felt . . . intimate, and the uncomfortability increased. But the smile that split Loki’s face was worth it.

As Loki made to pull back, Thor wrapped his arms around his little brother. Loki let out a yelp of surprise, but he put his arms around Thor as well, though slowly. “I’m sorry,” Thor said, resting his chin on top of his little brother’s head. “I’m so sorry.” something wet slid down his cheek, and it took him a moment to realize he was crying.

“I accept your apology, you great Oaf,” Loki muttered into his chest. “‘s not all your fault anyway.”

“It’s not all my fault?”

“Well,” Loki muttered, “If you had listened to me for once, I wouldn’t have had to come after you and save you from your own stupidity.” Loki leaned back, tilting his head as if to look Thor in the eyes, but ended up looking somewhere towards his elder brother’s nose. Thor put a finger under his little brother’s chin, gently prompting his brother to raise his face just a little more. The pale once-vibrant green eyes brought tears to Thor’s own, but he tried to stay strong. Loki needed someone strong to help him. His brother pulled back.

“You’re trembling,” Loki said, mouth set in a pout. He turned towards where Sif stood off to the side, though he was off by a few feet, and said “Why is he trembling?”

“You could ask me, you know,” Thor muttered with annoyance.

“You wouldn’t give me an answer,” Loki answered, still faced almost toward Sif, revolving closer to her when she cleared her throat. “You rarely lie to me, but you don’t always answer me.”

“Because he blames himself, and because he blames you,” Sif said, and Thor got the distinct impression she was trying to pretend he didn’t exist. Loki’s eyebrows shot up.

“Well, Lady Sif, at least my brother knows where most of the blame falls.” Thor wondered whether Loki meant himself, or Thor. Sif sighed.

“The warriors three and I are just as much to blame as you and Thor. More than you.”

“I made the choice,” Loki countered. Sif sighed in exasperation. Loki turned back to Thor. An unsure smile graced his pale features. “How long can you stay?” He asked.

“As long as you need me to,” Thor lied. Except it wasn’t exactly a lie. Because he could stay as long as Loki needed, but his duty would call him elsewhere.

Loki’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but his gaze was just a bit too high this time, so Thor took Loki’s chin, tugging gently till his brother’s diluted eyes seemed to be looking into his own. Except that they were unfocused. Except that they were actually blind.

“Thank you,” said Thor, and if felt so right to say. And yet . . . so . . . unusual.

Loki’s mouth was slightly agape, as if that had struck him speechless. “Um . . . I don’t actually know how to respond to that,” Loki said, color rising to his cheeks. “But know that I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Thor didn’t want to ever think of that. It made his heart hurt, and he felt a sudden and irresistible desire to keep his little brother safe from all the horrors of the world. “No!” both he and Sif yelled at the same time. Thor was so suddenly scared for his brother that he couldn’t move; but Sif seemed to have no such problems. She leapt towards his brother where he had taken a step back in surprise at their outburst, taking him by the shoulders to speak directly into the younger boy’s face.

“Never, Loki. Never do anything like this again.” The boy took another step back, as far as he could get, trapped in Sif’s grip as he was. “Promise me you won’t do this ever again.”

“I don’t want to lie to you,” Loki said, ducking his head so that his chin touched his skinny chest.

“Then I will know the promise is true; please, Loki. You mean more to people than you think, don’t let us lose you.” 

Thor watched as his brother’s dark eyelashes ghosted over his cheeks as the younger boy blinked and shook his head.

“Loki . . .”

“No, Sif,” Loki said quietly, lifting his hands slowly until his pale fingers found her wrists. He lifted Sif’s hands from his shoulders and took a step back. “I won’t lie to you, and so I can’t promise something like that.”

“Loki, please,” Thor whispered, having finally found his voice. “Please, little brother, never do anything like that for me again.” Loki winced, backing up until his legs hit his bed, sitting heavily on the mattress and burying his head in his hands. Slowly, the boy shook his head. Sif settled on the bed next to the younger prince, putting a hand on his shoulder. Thor was surprised to see that Loki’s shoulders were shaking.

“Alright,” Sif said quietly. “Alright. We won’t make you promise. Shh, you’re alright. You’re fine, it’s okay.” Loki turned to bury his face in the maiden’s shoulder, wrapping his thin arms around her as she stroked his hair. “It’s alright.”

Thor shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. He had never seen Loki so vulnerable. He’d never seen him cry. Not since the other was a baby. Maybe not even then. Thor couldn’t seem to remember. Suddenly, Thor thought that he might suffocate if he was in this room much longer. He made some sort of noise excusing himself. Sif’s glare burned his back even after he closed the heavy door behind him and slumped against the opposite wall.

Putting his head in his hands, Thor did his best to fight back the tears that had already fallen. If he tried to end those, maybe he could at least stop more from falling. What had he done? Loki was blind and vulnerable. Sure, Odin had only one eye, but it was a far cry from being truly blind. Loki would likely never leave his room alone again.

Footsteps echoed down the cavernous hallway, giving Thor time enough to stand up and draw his sleeve across his face before his mother caught sight of him crying. He had to be strong for her and for Loki. Right?

“Thor. Have you been to visit your brother?” Thor often wondered how his mother was able to convey two conflicting emotions at the same time. In this case, sternness, and approval. Sternness, he supposed, because he still hadn’t been forgiven (via being punished), and approval that he wasn’t avoiding Loki. He nodded mutely; tears sprung up in his eyes again, overflowing before he could stop them.

“Oh, my child,” Frigga said, pulling him close to her in a tight hug. If this were normal times, Thor would have wiggled indignantly out of her embrace. Hugs were for children. If this were normal times. But this was not a normal time. Not yet. But it very well might be, in the future. Because Loki wasn’t going to get better.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------Sif

Sif could not believe Thor. That he could walk out of the room like that when his little brother was so vulnerable and so very tired. Not that she expected Thor to have picked up on any of it. The elder prince wasn’t observant enough to notice the dark shadows under Loki’s vacant eyes, or the way he was responding to things slower than usual today. Loki had been in his room for a week, and in all that time, he slept only when Sif was there. It was useful, sometimes, to have an all-seeing being as a brother. Only sometimes, though. Some things are meant to be private.

Loki had stopped shivering, she noticed suddenly. That was something new, the sivering. Or maybe just something she had only recently noticed. Loki shivered when he was vulnerable or when he didn’t understand something. He rested against her still, though. Loki had become much more . . . well, he didn’t keep much personal space around himself any more. Not anything like what he used to. Probably it was because he had to rely so much more on touch now. Loki’s hearing was keen as a bat’s, but not every sound was from only one possible source, and there were a lot of sounds to sort through. These were just her thoughts on the matter, of course. Loki did not like conversations that centered around his blindness. Sif was still working on that, determined not to let him let his blindness beat him. She wondered whether the spell of blindness could be lifted. She had wondered this before, even asked Loki about it once. Just the once, though. He had made it very clear that no, it couldn’t be, and that he didn’t want to hear anything about it again.

“Is Thor still outside?” Loki asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Sif said. “Want me to check?” But he simply shook his head. Silence descended for a few seconds before Sif started humming a song from her childhood. She couldn’t rightly remember the lyrics at the moment, but she’d never been a good singer anyways. Humming was about as far as her talent went in that area.

She stopped mid-note as the door opened to reveal the All-mother, who stepped into the dim room quickly before closing the door behind her. Loki’s head shot up, a crease appearing in his brow as he tried to pinpoint exactly who had just entered his room.

“Hello mother,” he said eventually.

“Hello, my sweet son,” she said, sitting next to Sif and Loki on the bed. “Good afternoon, Lady Sif.” There was a warmth in the Queen’s voice that Sif didn’t think she deserved; she was at least part of the reason Loki was now blind, after all.

“My Queen,” Sif responded demurely, tilting her head in the All-mother’s direction. “Did you happen to see Thor?”

Loki’s eyebrows rose a little, showing that he was listening with rapt attention. “I did indeed,” the Queen responded. “He . . . was quite distressed. I sent him back to his room to get cleaned up.”

Loki blinked rapidly, but otherwise there was no reaction to be seen on his now-smooth face. He lifted his head from Sif's shoulder to hug his mother. The Queen rubbed her youngest son's back gently with one hand. He wasn't crying, Sif's noted, wasn't shaking or anything like that. Simply seeking some form of comfort available only in one's Mother's arms. That was something Sif had not sought since she had decided she was going to be a warrior, since she had had her first sword gifted to her by her more-than-willing father. Her mother had strenuously objected.

Loki pulled back from the hug and leaned towards Sif slightly, as if he had forgotten exactly where she was. Laying a hand on his thin shoulder, Sif guided the slim body to lean against her side.

"Has your father come to visit you?" Frigga asked, but without much hope in her words. Loki shook his head sadly.

"Would you like him to?"

"I would, but only of his own volition; our conversations are terribly contrived and awkward when they are forced," he said. Sif felt a smile tug at her lips. Now that was normal, she hadn't understood at least half of that sentence. A sad smile crossed the Queen's face.

"Alright," she said. She was silent for a moment, fingers absently fingering the light blue fabric of her dress. “Will you have dinner with your father and I tonight?” she asked. “I understand if you would rather not, and Thor will be unable to attend, but your father and I would love to have you.”

“Not tonight, Mother,” Loki said. “I . . . could do with some more . . . ah . . . practice.” Loki’s voice had become quiet, and he turned his face down, tucking his chin against his chest, signaling that the subject left him feeling uncomfortable.

“I understand, Dove.” Loki leaned back from his mother as she attempted to run her fingers through his hair, pressing his palms protectively over his dark locks. The Queen smiled. “I will have the servants bring your dinner here.”

“Thank you,” said Loki, settling back down on the bed beside Sif. “I shall join you at meals shortly. Within the next few days, I’m sure.”

“I look forward to it,” the Queen said, touching Loki gently on his hand so that he could raise her hand to his lips in a proper way, to kiss her good-bye. She smiled at the gesture and left, closing the heavy door softly behind her.

“Why doesn’t your father visit you? Surely your mother has told him of how you protected us.”

“Oh, I’m sure he knows,” Loki said, “I’m sure he knows that I let myself be wounded and did not fight back. That I did not use even my seidr to defend you or myself. He will not be proud of me for that. Perhaps he thinks I did it because I crave attention.”

Sif laughed in surprise. “I’ve never known anyone more averse to attention than you!” Loki just hummed. “Right?”

“To the contrary, my dear Sif, I crave attention. Why do you think I play pranks when I know that the punishments are only going to get worse? Because sometimes bad attention is better than no attention at all. I don’t know that you can understand. You are a beautiful woman and a strong, courageous warrior, praised for both. I have nothing but my intelligence. I am too skinny and pale to be handsome, interested in seidr rather than weapons and so I am called cowardly.”

Sif didn’t know how to respond to that. It was true that, while becoming a warrior had been difficult, she was now lauded as a model for all young girls to follow. There was still the odd person who thought that a woman’s place was in the home, but Sif always had the option of clobbering those people over the head while Thor looked on in approval. If the people who visited Loki were any clue, the only person always in his corner was the Queen, and she certainly wouldn’t condone outright revenge.

“I never noticed,” she said quietly. Loki scoffed, falling onto his back with a huff.

“As I said, I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I’m your friend,” Sif said slowly. “I should be able to at least empathize with you.”

“You are Thor’s friend. And I don’t begrudge that. It’s just that I don’t have any friends of my own. And now . . . well, now I’ll be lucky if my peers can look past my blindness.” His voice sounded hopeless, and Sif felt her heart clench, an odd tingling pain lingering in her chest.

She gathered her warrior instincts around her, letting her back straighten as she stood to look down at Loki, not that he would be aware of more than the mattress of the bed moving. “No more moping,” she said. “You need to do something. Some stretches. Come on.”

Loki groaned, but Sif had long ago become accustomed to his half-hearted protests against physical movement. He hated being told what to do, but knew he would become bored otherwise, and so would soon stoop to lowly physical movement. It was just like his weapons training sessions. The ones that he couldn’t take anymore, because he couldn’t see.

“No moaning,” she said, in a tone she knew was bossy. “Come on, sit on the floor with me.” Loki lowered himself to the floor, one hand settled on the bed behind him for balance. “First, let’s do your shoulders. Bring your right-”

“I can stretch without your guidance,” he said testily.

Sif stamped down on her annoyance at the interruption and took a deep breath. Loki’s temper was too similar to her own; if she couldn’t learn to control her urge to snap at him, they would quickly degenerate into loud arguments. “Alright,” she said. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll put you through some exercises before our supper comes.” She had come to take her last meal of the day with Loki in his room; he needed help sometimes, and she thought that he probably liked the company. 

She let her mind wonder as Loki stretched his muscles; he was small and thin, not at all like tall and brawny Thor, and so his fighting style would have to capitalize on flexibility and quickness. This was similar to the type of fighting she had originally learned, and still used from time to time. It was an exhausting way to fight, and if you did not manage to down your opponent quickly, the battle could be drawn out for ages.

Loki ended by stretching his back, placing his feet and palms against the ground and pushing himself up into an arch. Sif winced as his spine popped in protest, but he seemed fine with it, simply lowering himself to his back and then rolling up into a sitting position, raising eyebrows at her expectantly.

“I’ll have you do push-ups first,” Sif said. Loki didn’t grumble as she had expected, instead moving slowly until he was on his hands and knees.

“Where are you?” he asked. Sif touched him gently on his side.

“I’m on your right.”

“Okay. How many?”

Honestly, Sif wasn’t sure how many push-ups Loki could do. His arms lacked the muscle mass of a typical warrior, but he had shown remarkable endurance in the past. “I want you to do as many as you can,” she said.

“As many as I-?”

“Yes. I want you to do push-ups until you can’t anymore.”

In hindsight, she maybe should have realized that, stubborn as he was, Loki would go until he quite literally collapsed onto the floor, falling heavily to the side. “My arms hurt,” he gasped, curling and uncurling the offending limbs at the elbow. And no wonder they hurt, his pale skin had taken on a decidedly purplish tinge.

“When I said to do as many push-ups as you could, I didn’t mean for you to go until you dropped.”

“Then you should have specified,” Loki said shortly, still laying on his side. “I’m done. I’m not doing anything else.”

“It’s just your arms that are out of commision,” Sif said. “You could exercise your core or your legs.”

“No.”

“Loki, you can’t do just one type of exercise and then claim to be done.”

“Well, I just did, and I’m the prince, so.”

“That’s-”

“Just go away, Sif!”

She stopped, taken aback by the sudden outburst. Looking closer at Loki, she could see where the lines of his back were sharp with tension, and maybe some pain. Perhaps she shouldn’t push him so hard so quickly.

“I’m sor-”

“Be quiet!” Loki curled in on himself. The fetal position looked protective, she probably shouldn’t approach him. But, all the same, he looked like he was hurting beyond just the pain in his arms. Sif wanted to comfort him. She wanted to hug him and say she was sorry and make the pain go away. She wanted to. On the other hand, she knew that Loki would not want to be touched. He said he wanted her to go away. Would a good friend stay and help, or would a good friend leave? She wanted to stay, wanted to be there for him. But he wanted her to go. A compromise then.

“I’ll be just outside if you want me,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter that has been written all the way out. I will try to have another chapter by next Wednesday, but it's one of those things I just have to be realistic about and realize it's not likely to happen. But hopefully I'll get there by the 27th. I realize it's a long time to make you wait for a story with middling-length chapters, but it can't be avoided. Sorry! (Two jobs, volunteering as assistant director for a community musical, being part of an improv group, and sleeping take all my time. I have NO days off.)


	5. Invisible Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki struggles with his situation and gets unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I . . . am so sorry this took so long? I've been dealing with school and had a big idea change in my idea for where this story is going? So . . . yeah.  
> It'll probably be a while before my next update again, but who knows. Again, sorry this took so long, and thanks for sticking around, if you're still here.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------LOKI

As soon as his bedroom door shut with a thump behind Sif, Loki felt his tight muscles relax. He wasn’t sure what had set him off, he had been so much more emotional since his vision been taken. Blood rushed to his cheeks at the thought of how he had cried when Thor and Sif had tried to make him promise to never put himself in danger for them again. He had cried. In front of Thor no less! What a child he must seem to them. How his brother must pity him. Unable even stand up straight to refuse a request; resorting to tears like a child, backing away like a coward. Too little and too much, just like always. Too much effort into the push-ups (Sif had not congratulated him, only said he should not have done so many) too little bravery in general. He couldn’t promise something he did not mean. People called him a liar, but Loki did not think he had ever gone back on a promise. Yes, he had crafted his words so that the promise had little weight, but that was not lying. And now that he was unwinding, now that his heart-rate was coming down, Loki wondered why he hadn’t done so when Thor and Sif asked him for a promise. Had his blindness affected his mind?

Loki felt panic steal what breath he had recovered from his lungs, and he curled tight into himself again. No. He couldn’t lose his mind along with his sight. Besides, he figured as he let out a long breath, it was a spell, not a wound which had taken his sight. Seidr was much for precise than a weapon of steel; the spell would not have affected his mind. But was it worse that his emotions were clouding his mind? His mind was the only part of him with any worth, what did it say that his mind could be clouded by something as juvenile as emotions?

No. He had to get a grip. This kind of apocalyptic thinking would only take more of his wits away. Wiping at the tear-tracks he could feel on his face, Loki sat upright again, taking deep, gulping breaths in an attempt to calm down. Everything had been coming so quickly. He had been given no time to rest. That was all he’d need to feel better. Rest. Except . . . Loki had found it difficult to fall into a deep slumber without Sif reading to him in the last few weeks. And it would be even more so now that he felt guilty for snapping at her. The full weight of what he had probably just done hit him full-force, almost sending him back into the choked gasps.

He had sent away, likely for good, the only person helping him. She had guilted herself into helping him, but surely that guilt must have been assuaged by what he had just done. Sif did not deserve to be snapped at. She was just trying to turn him into something useful, the least he could do was let her. But his arms hurt.

He had been stupid. She had said to do as many push-ups as he could; she had expected him to be weak. He knew that. They all expected him to be weak. They had considered him a burden even when he could see. Why hadn’t he stopped when the burn in his muscles became uncomfortable?

Sif and Thor might have said that it was because he had no self-preservation, but that wasn’t true. Sure, he didn’t care much about what happened to his physical body (dark where the others were fair, fair where they were dark. Skinny when they were not. Everything about his body was wrong) but he cared about others’ opinions of him. He wanted Asgardians to see a Prince worth loving and respecting when they looked at him. He wanted enemies to see a worthy opponent. He wanted a feast in his honor like the ones father threw for Thor when his brother came home from a quest victorious. He wanted so much and none of it had ever felt further away than it did right now. 

“What am I going to do?” he asked the empty room. There was no answer. He supposed there wouldn’t be many answers anymore, now that Sif was gone; people like Sif did not suffer being snapped at for no reason. He had just lost the only person willing to help him. Except his mother, he supposed his mother might help him out of some familial obligation. He was alone again. Again and again and again; Loki had a habit of making friends and losing them within the year. Should he just stop trying? Keeping friends was so much work, and most of them wanted something from him, wanted to be his friend because they thought he could get them things since he was a prince. He wanted friends like Thor had. Loyal friends.

“Loki? Can I come back in?”

Sif. Sif was still outside the door. Why was she outside the door? “Sure?”

The door creaked open. “I apologize for pushing you,” came Sif’s voice from beside him.

“And I for snapping at you,” Loki responded, feeling his spirits lift. Had he not sent her away?

“Apology accepted,” said Sif, in the most diplomatic voice he had ever heard her use. “Do you want to keep going or-”

“Not really, no,” Loki said quickly. “I actually was rather hoping to go to sleep.”

A sigh. “You need to eat dinner Loki.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then be tired,” was Sif’s unsympathetic response. “I know you know how to control your body and its baser urges. You may be unable to see, but you’re still you. You can still be who you were before.”

Loki let his silence speak for him, because be who he was before? There was no way he could be who he was before. But he supposed that yes, it would be good for him to regain his self-control.

The two sat in silence for some time more, Loki passing the time by reciting childhood incantations in his head. He’d been able to do these in his sleep since before Thor had reached his adolescence. Being blind shouldn’t change that. All the same, Loki felt apprehensive, and so didn’t add his seidr to the chants in his head. Maybe later, when his mother could coach him so that nothing disastrous would happen. The still air was disturbed when a knock came to the door, shattering Loki’s meditative concentration.

“That’s probably your dinner,” Sif said, clothes rustling as she stood. Loki wondered if she was wearing a dress today. Her usual attire was more quiet than that. Or was he reading too much into a rustle of clothing? And now he was right back where he had been moments before, questioning the only thing which had never failed him; his mind, his intelligence. He wondered bleakly if he was going to keep coming back to that point. It was a disturbing point to focus on, really. 

“My King!” Sif’s startled voice brought Loki out of his thoughts. King? His father was here? Apprehension brewed high in his chest.

“Hello Lady Sif. If I may have a few moments alone with my son?”

“Of course, my King,” came Sif’s voice, along with a rustle. A curtsy? Or just her running out of the door as quickly as possible? “I will be just outside if you need me for anything Loki.” The door closed, leaving him alone with his father.

Silence reigned for a few moments; Loki could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as if he was being scrutinized. Odin had often made him feel so. As if he was prey on the wrong side of a hunter’s crossbow. His blindness hit him all over again in that second. Not only was he useless, he was helpless now too.

“My son.”

“Yes father?”

It was fortunate that the All-father had a heavy tread, or Loki would have flinched at feeling the mattress dip as Odin sat. “Are you in any pain?”

Not the question Loki had been expecting, though it wasn’t unexpected either. “There is no pain to my eyes,” is his response. It is not the whole truth, but adding that his body was sore from exercises and running into unseen furniture would garner him no sympathy from Odin.

“That is good.” There is silence for a moment more. “It is unfortunate that you were permanently injured in protecting your brother from the forest sorcerers. And yet, I must applaud you for your loyalty to family. Thor will need people like you at his side when he becomes king.”

Loki felt his breath stall for a moment. He had known (seen it as inevitable, really) that Odin would name Thor as his successor. It had simply never been spoken aloud until that moment. He supposed that since he was blind, he could no longer pretend that he had the same claim to the throne that Thor did. But he couldn’t show that he was affected, not in front of his father. He was only glad that the earlier irrational panic seemed to have left him. Thinking of Odin witnessing such a moment of weakness was terrible.

“Thor is my brother,” was all he responded with. “I will always love him.”

“Very good, my boy.” His father’s voice was jilted, as if the words fell awkwardly from his mouth.

Silence again. Loki thinks that more is communicated in the silence than the words that Odin All-father speaks. But he can no longer watch the king’s body language, something he had relied heavily upon in the past. Odin thought himself impenetrable, and to most he was.

“I will find a way to reverse this father.”

“I’m not sure you will,” a heavy hand falls to the nape of Loki’s neck, startling him. “The beings who have struck you so are powerful beings who draw their powers from the Norns rather than Yggdrasil. Our magicks are very different.” The Allfather was not one to foster false hopes.

“Of course father.”

“My boy, you will not let this get you down, I know that.” There is silence again. “Your brother is a foolish boy and will need your help to become the leader he will need to be.”

“Of course father.” Thor never listened to Loki. Even if Thor would listen for a little while, while Loki’s injury was still fresh, he would forget and go back to brushing him off. And he didn’t seem to want to spend time with him even now.

“Good boy. I will see you for the mid-day meal tomorrow.”

“Yes father.” Odin’s large hand moves from Loki’s nape to cup his face briefly, and Loki leaned into the warm touch. Then he left. The warmth from the Allfather’s hand stayed for a few seconds, warming his whole body. Loki reveled in it for a moment before putting his face in his hands, pushing the heel of his hands into his useless eyes. There was silence for a few moments.

“My Prince.”

Loki’s breath hitched in surprise. He had not expected Heimdall to visit him. “I welcome you, Gatekeeper,” he said quietly, face still covered by his hands. He couldn’t let the man see the tracks on his face from the tears that still leaked from his ruined eyes.

“You need not act so unaffected, my Prince. I know you better.”

“Just because you can see me doesn’t mean you understand me,” Loki snapped.

“And just because you often feel alone does not mean that you are.”

“When have I not been alone? It is true that your sister helps me for now, but I do not think that she will continue when she remembers how dull I am.”

“You are many things, my Prince,” Heimdall said, and Loki could hear the smile in his voice, “but either meaning of ‘dull’ has never been one of them.”

“Why did you come to see me, Gatekeeper? Surely you would not abandon your post without reason.” Loki knew that Heimdall’s fondness of him had been waning recently, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Fumbling, he drew his arm across his face, wiping away the tears, locking the trembling, vulnerable animal of emotion away inside himself. For a moment, hearing Heimdall’s voice had reminded Loki of quiet afternoons watching the Gatekeeper gaze into the realms as Heimdall spoke to him of what he saw. But those moments had petered out years ago. “It’s a funny thing,” he continued with a shaking laugh when Heimdall did not speak, “how, now that I am blind, I am seen.”

“You are burdened with a terrifying amount of fatality,” Heimdall said. “You seem to care naught for yourself; you’ve consigned your soul to the shadows because you have no strength left to fight, but darkness is no place for a soul to grow healthy.”

“So now my soul is dark as my world?” Loki asked, angry.

“You misunderstand me,” Heimdall said patiently. “By fatality I mean that you have come to expect to be treated in a negative way, and so have allowed yourself to fall into the shadows of others.”

“I have not allowed anything,” Loki hissed, drawing his elbows into his side. “Anything which pushes me deeper into Thor’s shadow has been done unto me, by no allowance of mine!”

“And yet you threw yourself in front of Thor’s punishment.” Loki was silent. “You saw his sight as more important than your own.”

“So what if I did?”

“Well, it certainly contradicts what you just told me. You allowed Thor’s punishment to be put onto you.”

“What do you want me to say?” Loki asked, voice gone cold. Something was constricting in his chest, squeezing a ball of something into his throat. “You want me to say that Thor is more important? You want me to say that I hate him for it?”

“Norns no,” Heimdall said. “I want you to admit to yourself that you are worth more than what other people think of you.”

“You have a funny way of not getting to the point, Gatekeeper.”

“You are important, Loki. I am sorry that you no longer feel your importance.”

Loki felt this throat closing off in frustration. “What do you want from me?!”

“Visit me at my post every so often my Prince. Perhaps I can teach you to observe without sight.”

That was something he could do. For all that Sif had said she would help him adapt to his new reality, she had yet to initiate anything beyond a conversation. But perhaps he could go to meet with the Gatekeeper every few days, and possibly he could learn Heimdall’s wordless magic. All too quickly, Loki’s excitement dwindled. “Are you doing this just because you pity me?”

Heimdall shook his head. “You are always so afraid of being thought weak, my Prince. But your people see strength in you.”

“No, they find strength in Thor. He’s the one they adore, he spends time with them, likes spending time with people.”

“They may adore him and listen to his stories, but he is a child, and they see him as a child. Many of the people see your quiet thoughtfulness and think that maybe they can hope for a king who will keep them safe in peace rather than endangered in war.”

“Even if that were true, I have failed them. I cannot be king now.”

“On the contrary, you would not be the first blind king to see clearer than men blessed with sight.”

“That sounds of treason.”

“If it is treason to speak one’s mind my Prince, then things are worse than they seem.”

Loki pet his hands along the blanket underneath himself, letting his fingers catch at deep wrinkles in the cloth. “I don't know what you want from me.”

“I want nothing from you. I simply hope that you will find that life can be worth every moment.”

“I am not suicidal Gatekeeper,” Loki said, peeved. Why did he assume that Loki was unaware that things may eventually get better? He had seen people learn to live missing a limb.

“I don’t think I ever said you were.”

“I know when you twist words.”

Heimdall laughed. “I shall await you at my post, Prince Loki.”

“Indeed,” Loki said, listening for the rustles of Heimdall leaving the room. He kept himself straight-backed, though his spine trembled with unsurity. Why had the great Gatekeeper come to see him in his self-enforced solitude? Loki knew he made for a pitiful figure, often abed and relying on Sif and servants for basic needs such as food and choosing what clothes to wear.

“Are you alright?” And it seemed even now he wasn’t left to his lonesome thoughts.

“Yes Sif, although I do wonder why your brother came to visit me.”

“I was confused myself when he came walking down the hall. I wondered what got him away from his post,” Sif said.

“He . . . wanted me to visit him. He also seemed to think that I do not possess self-positivity.”

“He’s not wrong.” Sif came closer to where he sat and put a hand on his knee. “You gave up your sight to save the rest of us a lighter punishment.”

“And yet you are the only one who cares, so I would think that the trade was seen as rather mundane.”

Sif sighed, and they dropped into silence apart from their breathing. Loki didn’t like the silence, but all of the conversations he had been a part of lately had only gone around in circles, and this one seemed to be heading in the same direction. He had to find something else to talk about; something other than his state of mind.

“I want to get out of this room.”

Sif shifted suddenly; Loki wondered if he had surprised her. “Where do you want to go?”

“I want to leave Asgard, actually. I want to go somewhere no one knows me.”

“Loki,” Sif said, “you’re a Prince of Asgard. Every being in the Nine Realms knows you.”

“Not the mortals. It has been a long time since Asgard has had any physical presence there.”

Sif is silent for a while. “I do not think that wise, my Prince,” she said. “The mortals may have forgotten us except for stories, but theirs is an archaic and uncivilized world, and would be a danger for a being without sight, no matter how evolved.”

“You were the one who said that I could still do things!” Loki snapped, annoyed. “And you are the one who said I shouldn’t let my blindness stop me from doing said things!”

“Yes, in the future,” Sif said, and oh how it galled him that her voice was steady and quiet. If only he had a harsher rein on his temper. “You need to learn how to defend yourself first. How to handle a weapon and manage on your own in crowds.”

“And yet I have not left my room for any amount of time since the incident,” Loki said, making an effort to calm the raging emotion in his chest. “Neither you nor I have been making any progress here.” There’s silence again. Loki felt like he was balancing at the edge of a precipice; if he stepped forward, who knew what awaited him. But if he stayed where he was, he knew he would stagnate, never find his way out of his dark dependency. 

“You do not think you have been making progress, but I know better, Loki,” Sif said quietly from his side. “You do your stretches and strengthening exercises every day, which I think is more than you did before, and it shows. You’re still skinnier than a snake, but you are able to go for longer now than even just a few days ago. I promise it won’t always be like this. The start is always the slowest part.”

Loki almost pointed out that that statement was, in fact, quite false, but held back. No reason to needlessly antagonize the only person who actually wanted to help him. Well, maybe that was not true either. Heimdall, while frustrating, had seemed sincere in his offer, and his mother certainly hoped for her son to get better. Thor most likely would like him to get better in order to assuage his own guilt. Odin was impossible to figure, as always.

“I don't think that now is a good time to make a big decision like removing yourself from the castle. You can recover in safety and comfort here, with your friends and your family.”

“I have very few friends. I always manage to make friends better outside of Asgard.”

Sif sighed. “You don't trust that people like you for you, do you? You think that they want to be your friend because you’re a Prince.”

“Or because I am a way to get to Thor. If I may be so brave as to call you my friend, I only know you because of your friendship with my brother.”

“I’d put that down to how withdrawn you are, honestly.” Sif sounded tired. Was she tired of him? Loki supposed so. He would likely be quite tired of himself too. He shook his head, feeling the ends of his hair brush against his neck.

“Sif?”

“Yes?”

“I need my brush.” His tongue curled in his mouth, distaste flavoring his words. How pathetic was he that he needed help finding such simple things as his hairbrush? Even getting dressed in the morning was a struggle if someone wasn’t there to assist. He wished it wasn’t so, oh how he wished it. He had once prided himself on his autonomy, not utilizing near the number of servants his brother did. That was no longer possible.

Sif stood from the bed, the sudden lack of weight at his side nearly upsetting Loki’s constantly precarious balance. He fingered his hair gently; it appeared to be tangled and rough at the ends; his lack of styling recently had left his hair to curl haphazardly about his nape and shoulders. Drats.

He felt other fingers join his own, and jumped. “I can brush my own hair, Lady Sif,” he groused, and reached back to take the instrument from her.

“Alright.”

It was difficult to brush his hair without being able to see. Loki had always used a mirror for his self-grooming, but if there was one thing he wanted to do on his own, it was take care of this one part of his appearance. He had no way of telling which clothing items went together, and the various cosmetics he used were quite impossible to manage without vision; at least so far. But he would brush his own hair. Norns damn it, he would brush his own hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are loved!


End file.
